


Wicked Game

by Salimah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Cheating, Dark!Steve Rogers - Freeform, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Psychological Horror, Unreliable Narrator, dark!bucky barnes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2020-07-20 10:20:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 46,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19990525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salimah/pseuds/Salimah
Summary: Victorian AU. Three months after getting engaged to the elegant but cold Mr. Rogers, you find yourself trapped in the Rogers Manor. Surrounded by nothing but forests and lakes, you were more than enthusiastic when your  fiancé introduced you to his childhood friend; James Barnes. Lonely to no end and accompanied by only the darkness and your thoughts, your nights start to get filled of wicked dreams of a man of blue eyes and a devilish smirk.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theimaginesyouneveraskedfor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theimaginesyouneveraskedfor/gifts).



> This story has dubious sexual consent, as the reader doesn’t quite understand what’s happening, and if this kind of content makes you uncomfortable or bothers you, please just walk away and ignore this story.
> 
> This little piece of shit was written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s In the dark! Writing Challenge on Tumblr. My prompt was “You know when you see something so precious you need to break it?”. This is my first time writing dark!characters but I’m very excited for the outcome! This is a weird story, thought. Think of Daphne du Maurier meeting The Crimson Peak.
> 
> I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think! The credit of the gif goes for it’s respective owner.

The first time you saw the Rogers Manor, you thought it was charmingly chilling.

Two gardens framed the entrance of the manor with lush green bushes, separating from the brick floor with walls of plants and trees. The manor stood threateningly above the entrance, with gray stone walls and long black windows like eyes staring at the night.

You had only spent two weeks there, and you already felt as if you hadn’t talked to anyone in years. The cold rooms and the dark corridors of the Rogers Manor began to affect you from the moment you set foot inside it. It was as if it’s darkness and shadows swallowed your colorful dresses and the sound of your laughter.

Norine sat beside you looking at the window, reading a book or combing her hair, and you talked about trivial and banal things; she was your best and perhaps only friend in the world, but you didn’t dare look her in the eye, fearing that your gaze would betray how much it hurt to see her. She was good company, one of the only people in the manor that you could talk to, but even with her talking non stop from morning to night, you felt like loneliness sank deeper into your bones with each passing day.

Your fiancé didn’t spend much time with you either, being honest. There was a time when it seemed that you couldn’t separate from him, when Steve dedicated his few but warm smiles only to you, and took you for walks in the city, staying close with one arm around your waist and soft kisses on the forehead . The memories of those afternoons together caused you emotions that you still couldn’t understand, but those days were over.

One trip to Steve’s cottage didn’t seem like such a bad idea when you suggested it, and you were surprised when he agreed. Norine managed to convince you to invite her, and Steve didn’t seem to object to your little companion. He told you that the house was large, with enough rooms for everyone to comfortably fit.

You didn’t expect to find an emaciated manor instead of the elegant country house you had imagined, surrounded by thick forests and a blackened lake.

The main dining room is too big for just the three of you, so you share meals in a room relatively smaller than the main one. You and Norine are the main speakers at dinner conversations, with Steve nodding occasionally or making a small comment here and there. He has always been a man of few words, but since your engagement, it seems that conversation hasn’t been one of his greatest interests.

Norine gently wipes her lips with a napkin, her eyes green like the forest bouncing between you and your fiancé.

“Steven, would you mind showing us around the manor tomorrow? We have barely set foot outside the gardens in the two weeks we have been here.” Her voice was impressive, commander, in a way you always wanted to be yours but you have always known that you will never have.

Steve raised an eyebrow in her direction, pushing his empty plate away from the edge of the table. His eyes barely rest on you before he completely turns to Norine.

“You will have to forgive me, but a friend will come to visit me tomorrow morning. Another day, maybe.”

You looked up with interest. You had been stuck with the unstoppable Norine and the silent Steve for two weeks, and you were beginning to feel like the lush forests surrounding the manor were about to devour you if you couldn’t find someone new to socialize with.

“Can we meet this friend of yours, or will you hide it from us too, hm?” Norine persisted in her attempts to include Steve in the conversation, and you tried to avoid the sour expression on your lips. His expression betrayed no emotion, as was common in him.

“James has a weakness for beautiful women, just as they seem to have a weakness for him. I may have to keep him away from you two.” His eyes sparked with something resembling malice, but it was gone before you could see it with certainty. “If I manage to keep him on a leash, I may let you caress him.”

Norine laughed with delight, but your lips only curled in a small smile. “It will be a pleasure to meet your friend. He surely isn’t as bad as you want to make us believe.”

Steve’s smile was small, almost invisible, but you knew where to look. It was genuine, and his eyes softened in a strange way when they met yours.

“You will decide that, my darling.”

After the table was collected and the night had covered the manor with its cloak of darkness, you slipped into a thin, baggy nightgown, combing your hair between your fingers so that it didn’t become a complete disaster by the morning and you were presentable to the new guest. You peeked the reflection of the double bed behind you in the dressing table mirror, and wished that, even if it was only for that night, your bed wasn’t so empty.

The whisper of the wind moving the trees could be heard even with the windows closed, and you wondered if it might rain tonight. Probably not, with the moon shining splendidly in the chasm of the night sky and the light illuminating the glass of your window.

As bored as you were, you didn’t go to bed immediately. You’ve always had a heavy dream, but sleeping in another bed that wasn’t yours always could take your best. You took a while on the dressing table, making sure your hair had no knots and that all the windows were tightly closed.

Norine slept in her own room at the end of the hall, and it had been a while since you had stopped listening to the characteristic sounds of a person awake, so going to chat with her in a pathetic attempt to soften your heart was out of the question.

Even with that in mind, the silence of the night was interrupted by the sound of soft footsteps echoing down the hall. Your heart jumped, and you clenched your hands in your lap, stealing a look at the wooden door behind you. You knew who was out there, and you couldn’t take your eyes off the door with expectation as the steps got closer and closer to your room.

But then the steps went past your room, and your heart fell into your stomach. You were hoping that maybe that night, he would come to see _you_. You scolded yourself when you stood up and went to the door, knowing that you didn’t want to see what was happening out there, but you did it anyway, because you’ve never been good at listening to your conscience.

You opened the door just enough to see through it, and the warm light of the lonely candle slipped into your gloomy room.

Steve opened the door to Norine’s room cautiously, and she greeted him with a smile. Her reddish hair shone in the firelight and fell on her shoulders in long waves. Steve took a lock between his fingers, intentionally avoiding her gaze. You felt as if a wasp nest appeared in your stomach, and you forced yourself to close the door when Norine’s also did it, locking herself up with your fiance for the rest of the night.

You leaned heavily against the closed door, feeling a knot of tears rise up your throat. Night after night during your entire stay at the Rogers manor, your fiance slipped into the room of your only friend in the world or she slipped into his. You had no idea when it started, but you felt so stupid for not realizing it before.

Would they ever tell you? Or did they plan to continue this affair even after the ink on your marriage certificate had dried? Norine was no longer pure enough for her suitors to keep fighting over her, but of course, she surely doesn’t plan for anyone but Steve to know what’s going on in that room. Not even you, obviously.

The murmur of the wind hit your window with a loud bang, and you jumped when the curtains rose with the breeze of the cold night.

You walked slowly to the open window with light steps, and held the wooden frame in your hands. You were sure you closed the window before changing. Maybe the lock was loose. The night wind stirred your hair and your nightgown, sticking it to your body and reminding you how thin it was. A chill went up your back when the cold made contact with your skin, so you moved closer to shut the window.

The trees moved as if they had a mind of their own, and the sounds of nocturnal animals waking up to hunt among the many plants in the garden reached your ears. The moon illuminated everything within reach, but you still couldn’t adapt your eyes to darkness.

The branches crashing against each other, the withered leaves falling to the ground, and owls singing lullabies formed a melody like no other, distorting sounds and adapting them to their pleasure. It was a slow, serene song, but it glided through the shadows like an arrow about to sink into a beating heart.

 _Y/N_ , the darkness hummed in a singing, cheerful voice, sharp as a butcher’s knife. _Y/N._

You closed the window with a dry thump and threw the curtains on them, leaving your bedroom in darkness. Your bed sank under your weight and you took refuge under the heavy sheets, ignoring what was around you.

You could only hear the sound of your heart and your breath, and you closed your eyes, hoping to forget the darkness that lurked in and out of the manor.

Norine was all smiles the next morning, pulling your arm to drag you into the garden in front of the stables. There were only two horses there, and they were the ones who had taken you to the manor from the city in the carriage. Being so far from civilization had been relieving at first, but now it only served to make you nervous.

“It seems as if you didn’t shut an eye all night, my dear.” Norine sang next to you, sitting as she was on the blanket under the afternoon sun. You looked up from the book in your lap.

“The wind didn’t let me sleep.” _Neither you and my future husband_ , you want to add, even if you hadn’t heard anything but Steve’s soft steps when he returned to his own room early in the morning. “Maybe I should change rooms.”

Norine pursed her freckled nose in an adorable grimace. You had never been envious of Norine’s natural beauty, not until you discovered how Steve preferred her over you. Norine Pandy was beautiful, with her reddish brown hair and green eyes like the grass after rain. Her lips were soft and her cheeks round, and her dark eyelashes caressed the small freckles on her cheekbones with each blink.

She was beautiful in an artistic, passionate way. Norine has always reminded you of a burning flame fluttering in the wind, and everyone seemed to be drawn to her. You didn’t consider yourself ugly or unattractive. You had your fair amount of suitors before Steve, but you always felt like a shadow next to the bubbling Norine.

“But I like being close to you. So I can slide into your bed and hug you if I have nightmares during the night.” Her shoulder pushed yours, a smile adorning her lips. You return the gesture without even realizing it, pulling her hair playfully while the heat rises up your cheeks.

“Don’t say things like that.” You whisper, as if the flowers that caress your feet could tell your secrets to someone else. Norine takes a cake from the plate that rests between you and her, closing her lips around it in a smile.

“You are as sweet as sugar, my dearest Y/N. You should not change rooms. Moreover, we should share one! So our host will not be able to slip into your sheets and steal your virtue before the wedding night.”

Your smile breaks, but you keep it in place so as not to alarm it. For a very little moment, you forgot the burning pain of her betrayal and things went back to the way they were, as if she had never done what she did. As if you had never discovered it.

Norine can read you better than anyone, however, and her eyes soften when yours avoid her. “What’s up with you lately, sunflower? It’s as if an angel of sadness had kissed you until he stole your breath.”

You play with the book in your lap, suddenly anxious to return to your reading. Norine puts her delicate hand on yours and your fingers are forced to stop. You don’t want to tell her what happens to you, you don’t even want to look at her, but she seems to have other plans.

As if she could feel your denial, Norine let out a sigh, but didn’t let go of your hand. “Okay, you don’t have to tell me now. But you know I’m here for you always, right?”

The sound of voices and footsteps approaching echoed in the neglected gardens, and you and Norine turned around just in time to see a shadow disappearing inside the stable, closely followed by Steve, who gestured with his hand for you to come before following the other person inside.

Norine jumped to her feet, shaking the crumbs from the cakes she had devoured during your quick snack. They saved everything in a calm manner and she wrapped her arm with yours, sticking her hip to yours and starting to walk with a cheerful step.

“Do you think he’s handsome, Steven’s friend?” Norine whispered in your ear, as eager as you to meet someone from Steve’s circle.

“I don’t know. I just hope he’s kind.”

The barn was surprisingly well kept, considering it has been practically abandoned for so long, and the fresh air isn’t choking like in other parts of the manor. You decided that you liked this place immediately, because, unlike your room or the dining room, here you didn’t feel as if the walls were going to fall on you.

Steve stroked the back of one of the horses when you approached him, resting a hand on his broad back. He turned to you and smiled, a gesture so unusual in him. You didn’t have time to react before he pressed a warm kiss against your lips and slipped his hand down your back, pressing you against his side. The smile was still there when he separated his mouth from yours, but he didn’t let go of his grip on you.

Your cheeks felt hot, and you stole a look at Norine who smiled blatantly at the unusual display of affection before Steve called your attention again.

"Y/N, this is my old friend, James Barnes.” He gestured with his hand in front of him, pointing to the man you hadn’t noticed so far.

James Barnes was leaning against a wall when Steve said his name, and his figure seemed to have merged with the few shadows of the stable. Your eyes ran down his broad shoulders covered by a black coat and his outlined jaw darkened by his beard. His eyes were blue like the sky, just like Steve’s, but his hair was dark and long, barely brushing his shoulders.

He was handsome, much more than you had expected, and you rebuked yourself when an unexpected heat woke up in the pit of your stomach. What had come over you? Your fiance was standing right next to you and you still felt like the more you looked at James, the more you wanted to get close to him.

He stepped forward, his gloved hands in shiny black leather coming out of his pockets where he had them hidden. A sharp smile curved his pink lips slowly, and you felt a chill run down your back.

“You are much more beautiful than Steve here gives you credit, my lady.” His voice was thick, hoarse, like that of someone who doesn’t speak very often but when he does, you listen. He took another step toward you, and you felt Steve’s arm tightened at your waist, but you didn’t look away from James for a single second.

The heat on your cheeks increased with every second you looked in his blue eyes. You forced yourself to look away, waiting for the gesture to be masked as shyness when you let out a little nervous giggle.

“And you are much more charming than my fiance told me, too.” You smiled, daring to steal another look. His smile was still in place, but a spark appeared in his eyes in a blink. Maybe it was just your imagination, but you could have sworn that his gaze followed the movement of your lips.

Norine stepped forward, stopping by your side. James turned his attention to her, and you felt how the warmth of his gaze tickled your skin as soon as he left.

“Let me introduce you to Norine Pandy, a great friend of ours.” You hurried to introduce her, remembering your manners at the last minute. Norine gave him her best smile, but the glare in James’s eyes was gone.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet a friend of Steven. It seemed to me that we were the only ones with whom he deigned to share a cup of tea.” Norine set her charms on, and you realized a little too late that she had also looked James with other eyes. You stopped yourself from making a face. Doesn’t she had enough with Steve?

If James noticed the subtle way in which Norine pulled her hair away and exposed her pale neck to his eyes, he gave no sign of it. Instead, his smile spread into a grin.

“Tea, you say? Interesting. You’ve always had a weakness for rum, Steven, not tea.” His voice was brazen, playful, in the tone of a friend who mocked another. The comment was merely harmless, but there was a hint of malice entwined somewhere under James’s seductive smirk.

Steve had been silent throughout the exchange, and you were surprised to find his eyes fixed on you when you turned to look at him. A muscle bounced off his tight jaw, and his eyes had turned steel. His arm pulled you closer to him, and a tense smile crossed his lips as he turned to his old friend.

“You know my tastes are volatile, Buck. But I have to adapt to the married life.” He said, his voice low and serene when he said the nickname, in contrast to the tense bearing of his shoulders. You put a hand on his chest, waiting for the gesture to reassure him, but neither James nor Norine seemed to notice his fingers clenching painfully at your waist.

James tilted his head, his smile permanently stuck to his face, but there was that spark in his eyes again. His gaze swept Steve from head to toe, drinking every detail of his discomfort, and then, surprisingly, he moved his eyes to _you_.

You felt his hot gaze evaluate you from top to bottom, so fast that you could barely notice it, but the trail of chills that his eyes left on your skin accelerated your heart. The spark in his eyes was burning, like a flame about to take over his face, and you felt the heat rise up your chest to your cheeks. You didn’t want to feel that way, not for him, not for Steve’s friend.

“I hope you’re doing exactly that, yes,” he said at last, returning his gaze to Steve, his voice cutting the air like a sharp knife. Steve kept smiling and pressed a kiss on your temple. You couldn’t even afford to enjoy his affection, feeling that sensation in your stomach’s mouth under James’s scrutiny.

Norine seemed oblivious to the tension in the air and intertwined her fingers in yours, “Why don’t we go inside and talk about the art of marriage and rum on the table, hm?” She pushed her hip against yours, eager to better know the new guest. You, on the other hand, didn’t know how to feel about him, apart from this urgent need to get as close as possible and run away from him at the same time.

Steve nodded firmly, stepping back and dragging you along. “Yes, we better get in. It looks as if it will rain tonight, and I don’t want the air to make you two sick.”

James adjusted his black coat over his shoulders, his eyes fluttering between you three. He smiled, and pointed the way to the entrance with his open palm. “Go ahead, Steven.”

Steve could have ignored his comment or just didn’t hear it, because his feet were already taking you to one of the many entrances of the manor, the one that was closest to the stables. You could hear the steps of Norine and James following you and her voice trying to start a conversation.

Steve slipped his arm out of your waist, but hooked a finger with yours. You looked up to look at him, giving him a bright smile, hoping that would lighten his strange mood. He, as always, didn’t return your gesture, but the way his eyes softened as he looked at you warmed your heart.

“James is quite nice, even though he made fun of you.” You said in a singing voice, walking with short, slow steps, almost wobbly. You weren’t especially anxious to re-enter the manor, and you wanted to delay the inevitable encounter as much as you could. “I’d like to know him better.” You murmured, feeling your cheeks warm up again.

Your fiance’s expression was illegible when he muttered under his breath, “I’m glad you think that, because he’s going to stay with us until we return to New York.”

The words fell heavy from his lips to your ears, and you looked at him bewildered for a few seconds before looking at the ground so you wouldn’t trip and fall. You still hear Norine talking about cakes, books and alcohol, but James remained silent.

You dared to glance over your shoulder at them and were surprised to find James staring at you. The same heat as before burned like flares in your stomach, and you looked away sharply, feeling his gaze all the way to the manor.

The few hours under the sun in the garden had lifted your spirits for a while, but soon you felt drained of energy again. It was as if the manor fed on your enthusiasm, your joy. Norine didn’t seem affected by her new surroundings, and Steve was as dry of feelings as always, except for his unusual show of affection this afternoon.

While you wilted in the shadows, Norine ignored them like flies and Steve respected them like an old friend, James hadn’t shown any signs of discomfort when he entered the house. You knew he had been here before, Steve told you, but the way he walked through the halls and sat in the old chairs made you think about how comfortable he was in this gloomy environment.

The lack of sleep of the last weeks was affecting you strongly while you hung small pearl earrings on your ears, feeling less than willing to go down to dinner with your new guest. It was etiquette to prepare a special and elegant dinner for a new guest, and you would use the main dining room for the first time since you had arrived.

You took a breath and inspected your reflection in the full-length mirror of your room. Your dress was long, silky, with a skirt that fell like rose petals to stagnate at your feet. The neckline wasn’t too open, just brushing under your collarbone, and the sleeves rested on your shoulders gently. Your hair was collected in a simple but elegant hairstyle, with small indomitable locks jumping here and there.

You felt pretty, but you had used not to dress up the last few weeks. Now you sighed, sliding in your shoes and stealing one last look to the mirror before heading out into the hall and heading to the dining room, the candles lighting your hallway.

While James had been nothing but gentlemanly and kind to you since his arrival a few hours ago, his attentive gaze had made you nervous in several different ways. You couldn’t deny how handsome he was or how much he attracted you, but you could deal with that. Your fiance might not feel any real respect or affection for you, but you would never treat him in the same manner.

It was that other feeling that his eyes left on your skin that made you restless. That tremor in your fingers, the chill that went up your back as if someone was breathing in your neck. James looked at you like he was going to eat you when you turned your back to him, and the feeling didn’t leave you all afternoon.

The halls of the manor were covered by an old tapestry of black and red flowers on a white background obscured by time, and the candles were held by rusty iron candlesticks. You felt relieved as soon as you entered the dining room and saw the large windows on the walls, framed by thick curtains and giving you a splendid view of the night nature.

It was a large room with an equally majestic table, made of polished and shiny wood and surrounded by padded chairs with soft cushions and golden threads. A crystal chandelier hung over your head and frightened the shadows of the room, keeping much of the essence of the manor at bay. The table was already set, but the food had not yet been served.

Norine was already sitting, resting her delicate chin on her gloved hand. Her brown hair was lazily gathered on her neck, and some reddish curls framed her pale face and lips pursed with boredom. James was there too, but he turned his back on you as he looked into the darkness through the window, too distracted to pamper Norine with a polite conversation.

“What are you waiting for?” You startled to hear Steve by your side, his hand moving to rest on your lower back. His suit was elegant, clean, but not as glamorous as the costumes he had worn in those days where he courted you and took you to parties and carriage rides. His blue eyes were cold, and his lips were closed in a firm line.

“You,” you lied, feeling your voice grow smaller. You really didn’t want to be there with them; Steve looking down at you, Norine as if you were stupid, and James as if you were a prey. But it was too late to pretend to feel sick, “I wanted us to go in together.”

Steve looked into the hall and put your hand on his elbow, his jaw clenched tightly. “You look beautiful.”

His voice came out tight, as if it was hard for him to say the words, but the way in which his hand closed in yours on his arm told you he was honest. A blush went up your neck, and you muttered a few thanks before Steve pulled you into the dining room.

James turned around when you entered, and for a tiny second, you could see how the night was reflected on his face, with his blackened eyes and his pale and hollowed cheeks, his lips red with blood. You blinked, and his eyes were blue again, and the night was still where it had always been. He smiled at you.

You swallowed and took a seat when Steve offered it to you, but you kept your eyes on the table while everyone got comfortable and the servants served the food. Norine was, as always, the first to spark up the conversation.

“And you never thought about getting out of here, going with Steven to the city?” Norine was surprised at the idea of a person who preferred the calm of the countryside to the chaotic city, but you couldn’t blame her either. James looked like the kind of man who would fit perfectly in the big city; all smiles and charms, with his black leather gloves and dark coat. The ladies would fight for him, you’re sure.

James just shrugged with a smile. “I’ve been in the city long enough for a life. I feel much more comfortable here in the manor.” He hadn’t taken off his gloves to eat, and he held the fork between his fingers as if the leather was a second skin. His eyes jumped from Norine to you, and you paralyzed. “Loneliness suits some more than others.”

You forced yourself to look away and took another bite of your food. Steve squeezed your knee, but he wasn’t looking at you. It was as if he knew you were uncomfortable but he wasn’t very interested in why. Maybe he just wanted you to behave during dinner, and then her would let you cry all you wanted in the loneliness of your room while he wallowed with Norine.

You bit your lip, trying not to think about it. James had spent most of dinner without looking at you, but now it seemed your luck was over.

“What about you, Y/N? Do you enjoy the atmosphere of the manor?” James said, his voice caressing your name like a cat playing with a mouse before opening its stomach. “The stars look amazing in this part of the forest.”

The corner of his mouth was raised in a small smile when you dared to look at him, and the evil glow in his eyes had returned.

 _He knows_ , you thought when you see that glow again. _He knows about the manor and its secrets._

“I haven’t had the opportunity to explore the area, but I find it beautiful from what I can see from my window. I’d like to explore the forest at some point.” You forced the words out, and yet you didn’t lie. The darkness of the manor and its surroundings terrified you, but you couldn’t deny how attractive the forest became when night fell.

Steve shook his head, “I don’t think so. The forest is dangerous during the day, much more at night. I could only take you to the lake, but not much further.”

“Is there a lake nearby?” Norine lit like a candle, and a smile stretched from her lips when she looked at you from her seat in front of Steve. “Oh, we have to go swimming at some point, sunflower! Like when we were girls, in my uncle’s cabin, remember?”

A part of the heaviness in your stomach disappeared when you smiled at the memory. “We didn’t pack swimsuits.”

“We don’t need them.” Norine smiled blatantly, and your cheeks warmed when you caught the meaning of her insinuation.

“Norine!” You exclaimed at the same time that James let out a loud laugh. Norine didn’t seem embarrassed at all, and Steve’s hand rose higher up your thigh when her laughter joined James’s. You looked at your fiance with big eyes, but he just squeezed your thigh in response.

James took a drink of his wine, smiling around his glass. “Steve, my friend, you can continue to fear the forest, if you want. I have no problem with accompanying the ladies to swim.”

“Don’t even dream it, Barnes,” Steve rolled his eyes, but his mouth curved in the slightest of smiles. “There are things that you aren’t yet worth seeing, and my wife’s body is the first one.” _Wife_ , you blushed. _Wife, wife, wife_. You could barely feel embarrassed with Steve’s mortifying comment about your naked body, because it was the first time he called you that. Norine laughed with delight.

But James didn’t look so playful anymore. His eternal charismatic smile was still there, but now he turned his glass in circles between his fingers, his eyes fixed on you. You felt your skin getting warm, and now, watching as his lips flushed with wine stretched in a wolfish smile and his hair fell on his shoulders in dark waves, you couldn’t avoid the fire that lit in your stomach.

The thought of him seeing you as naked as the day you were born mortified you as much as it excited you. You noticed a heartbeat later that the fire that slowly consumed your body was desire. 

The kind of desire you still felt for Steve in your loneliest days, the kind of desire that ran through your veins when Norine drank too much wine and pressed wet kisses on your neck and shoulders, purring how much she loved you. The kind of desire you felt on those cold nights when you allowed your hand to slide under your nightgown and bite the pillow to silence your shameful sounds.

You wanted it, deeply, with everything and that feeling of panic and paranoia that his gaze caused you.

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, James’s smile spread impossibly larger. “Ah, Steve, always being right. Damned bastards like us don’t deserve that kind of delight, don’t you think, Y/N? ”

You squeezed your thighs together, feeling a pang of guilt when you remembered that Steve’s hand was still there while you had those kinds of thoughts about his best friend. You looked at that pair of blue eyes that were watching you closely and you trembled.

“Any little pleasure is a delight for a man like you, Mr. Barnes.” You let words slip from your tongue like honey, and Norine tries to hide a laugh behind her glass. Steve smiles, his eyes twinkling in your direction, but James barely blinks.

A fang shines in his smile. “That’s where you’re wrong, beautiful Y/N.” He says, as if you were the only ones in the room, a secret shared among furtive lovers. You squirm in your seat, and put your hand on Steve’s on your thigh to cling to the ground. “You are everything but a small pleasure.”

You stop a gasp before it comes out of your lips. Norine begins to change the subject, telling a story about you two traveling to your family’s property or life in the city. Steve has lost his smile, and his fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh through the dress. He’s looking at Norine, but you know his attention is on you, alert. As if he feared you were going to jump over the table into James’s arms.

James, meanwhile, gives you one last smile before joining the new conversation. Your stomach feels messy, and you can barely finish your meal by the end of dinner. The dishes are removed, the chairs dragged, and then everyone is leaving the dining room.

Steve kisses you goodbye at the bottom of the stairs and mutters a good night before going to his own room, leaving a cold feeling where his hands had touched you.

Norine is smiling, as always, in contrast to your calm posture. Pressing a kiss on your cheek and her hands squeeze yours, “Sleep well, sunflower. Don’t let the wind bother you again.” You returned the desire tiredly, and watched as her dress disappeared down the hall. Maybe you should have accompanied her, considering that your room is close to hers, but then you realized that her quick farewell was probably because she wasn’t going to her room at all.

You let out a defeated sigh, exhausted and anxious to sink into your bed and sleep until someone dragged you out. You hear footsteps against the wooden floor until James is standing next to you, his hands entwined in front of him. His eyes run through you from head to toe in the dim candlelight.

“Let me accompany you to your room.”

It’s not a question, or a request, and you’re too tired to protest, so just nod your head and move toward the stairs. At least you won’t have to walk through the dark halls on your own, even if James’s presence was no less frightening.

His footsteps echoed with yours, and neither of you tried to speak on the way to your room through the sea of corridors and rooms that had to be traversed. You already knew the path of memory, but you still remembered the first days after your arrival when you got lost trying to go to the kitchen.

You were afraid to look at him and let your thoughts come out of your lips like bullets in a loaded shotgun. You kept your eyes on the floor, even though you felt his burning on you all the way. Finally, the door of your room appeared before your eyes, and you dared to look at him when you leaned against the wood.

“Thank you for accompanying me, you are very kind.” Your voice was barely a whisper, but in the silence of the hallway it felt like a scream. James just tilted his head and watched you, his smile gone along with malice in his eyes. He looked at you as if he did it for the first time, as if he had barely noticed something very important about you.

You changed your weight on your feet, feeling that feeling of discomfort under his gaze again. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight.” He replied, his voice hoarse. You turned your back and hurried into your room. You didn’t want to close the door on his face, so you turned to say goodbye to him one last time.

But there was only darkness and dust in the hall, so you closed the door and breathed for the first time in all night.

Your bed was warm, soft, comfortable. You never wanted to get up, and you could barely form a line of coherent thoughts when the cold shook your body. The dream was dragged out of you like a mother tearing off the blanket that covers her son eager to keep sleeping, and you opened your eyes wearily.

It was still night, of that you were sure. Another shiver crawled across your skin, and you brushed your hair out of your eyes to see how the curtains flew with the wind that came through your open window. You frowned, still disoriented by sleep, but you were sure that you had closed the window and checked that the lock was firmly in place before going to sleep.

The sound of a groaning board brought your attention back to your room. You had been too distracted by the open window that you hadn’t noticed that you weren’t alone in your bedroom.

James was sitting on the bench of your dressing table, with his elbows resting on his knees and his eyes fixed on you. His hair was loose and ruffled by the wind, and he was wearing a thin white shirt and dark trousers. He wasn’t wearing shoes, and his hands were intertwined between his knees.

You gasped and sat on your bed, holding on to the sheets with your fists clenched. James just blinked. You forced yourself to take deep breaths, not allowing fear to manifest in your body or face.

“What are you doing in my room?” You tried to sound firm and upset, but you couldn’t stop the tremor that slipped in your voice at the last word. James squared his jaw.

“Watching you,” he said, his voice husky and deep, without a hint of emotion. Your stomach was a jumble of knots, and your hands clenched tighter on the sheets. The moonlight illuminated the room, but James had managed to find the perfect angle at which his face was still hidden by the shadows.

Everything had fallen silent outside, silencing the night song that hadn’t let you sleep in the last few weeks. Only the wind dared to whisper inside the room, bringing with it an icy air that stirred your hair and bristled your skin.

“That’s not enough answer.” You couldn’t deny the shiver in your voice now, but you forced yourself to hold his gaze anyway.

James straightened up then, and your heart skipped a beat thinking that maybe you had bothered him and now he was going to lash out at you, but he just sat there, looking at you. His blue eyes, hidden in the shadows, ran through your body covered with sheets and a nightgown as if your skin was naked in front of him.

“Admiring you, then. I couldn’t do it so freely in front of Steve.” He clenched his hands in his lap, as if he was holding back from doing something. “He’s possessive of his things, you know? But despite his dalliances, this is the first time he hasnt wanted to share.”

His eyes run over you again, and the movement of his tongue licking his lips lit a flame in you. You shook away the sensation, focusing on what he says and does. You covered your chest with the sheets, wishing you had put on a thicker nightgown.

“I don’t want you here.” You say, and your voice is hard.

“Liar.” There’s a hint of mockery in his voice, but this James is nothing like the smiling man you had met a few hours ago. This James is serious and stoic in a way that not even Steve had ever been, and the lack of feelings in his eyes frightened you immeasurably. “You want me to go into that bed with you and keep you warm for the rest of the night.”

“That’s not true.” Your cheeks warmed at the thought, and you pressed your legs against your body, regretting the movement as soon as James’s eyes saw a bare leg. You rushed to hide it under the sheet. “I want you to get away from me.”

It’s as if you had said the exact opposite, because then James stood up, and you realized how frighteningly tall he was. You tried to go back away, up the bed, just to find the wooden headboard against your back.

“Don’t get close to me!” You panicked, holding on to the sheets as your only defense. As if he hadn’t heard you at all, he took a step toward you. “I will scream if you go one step further.”

“Go ahead, scream.” He said, taking another step slowly towards you. It’s not like it would take a long time to get to your bed, but you knew, from the look on his face, that your fear was exactly what he wanted. “No one is going to hear you in this part of the house. The servants sleep on top of the library, and we both know that Norine is in Steve’s room, on the other side of the manor.”

His words burned, and you pressed your lips to avoid telling him an obscenity. You stole a look at the door, wondering if you would be fast and agile enough to dodge him and get out. James kept talking.

“Besides, I like the sound of your voice.” His voice was dangerously closer, and you shuddered when his fingers brushed your shoulder over the nightgown. “Scream for me.”

You let out a shaky breath, and closed your eyes when his fingers went up your neck until he reached your face, cupping it in his warm hand.

“Look at me, Y/N.” His voice was low, but demanding. You opened your eyes and looked at him tremblingly, leaning on his hand when his thumb caressed your cheek in a gentle, affectionate gesture. The moonlight illuminated his face now, and his blue eyes shone with something you couldn’t locate.

 **“You know when you see something so precious you need to break it?”** He whispered, almost to himself, but your limbs tensed and the warmth of his hand was no longer so comforting. You jerked away.

“Are you going to hurt me?” You asked tremblingly, refusing to take your eyes off his, and clenched your jaw to keep your lower lip from shaking. James put one knee on your bed, sinking it under his weight and leaning over you.

“Only if you want me to.” He breathed into your face, so close that you could count his eyelashes. Your heart was pounding against your ribs, and a beat skipped when his hands pulled the sheet down.

You should’ve stopped him. You should’ve pushed him, you should’ve scream. Instead, you let the sheet slip out of your hands and slowly go down your body, baring your chest, your stomach, your hips, your legs, until finally there was only a thin white nightgown covering your modesty, and you felt like your skin warmed under his gaze.

James threw the sheet at the foot of the bed and rested both knees on the mattress, trapping one of yours between his. His hands rested on each side of your hips and his face moved closer and closer to yours. Your lips brushed, and a breath stuck in your throat.

“James…” You whispered, your mouth speaking against his, and James let out a growl like you’ve never heard before.

“Say my name many more times.” His eyes were unfocused, burning in yours, and you had no time to respond before his lips were on yours.

You hadn’t noticed when fear had melted into desire, but your body now burned with a fire very different from that of apprehension. He had rough, cold lips, and they tasted like wine and tobacco, although you hadn’t seen him smoke all day. His mouth pressed against yours more persistently, and his hands clung to your waist.

You opened your lips when his tongue gently stroked them, and you let out a small sigh when his tongue entered your mouth. You had never been kissed like this before; Steve had been passionate once, but he had never taken your hips and pushed you against the bed, pressing his body against yours like James does now.

You grabbed his shoulders when his teeth closed on your lower lip and pulled until it slipped free, and a groan came out of your throat. His wet lips returned to yours before you could ask him to stop, to wait a moment, and you couldn’t help but abandon yourself to the sensations of his hands rising up your hips to your waist.

His mouth kissed the corner of yours and left a trail of kisses down your jaw and down to your neck, his beard tickling your skin. You took a moment to catch your breath, and you sank your hands into your hair.

“This is wrong.” You breathed, biting your lower lip when his lips closed at a sensitive point on your skin. “It’s wrong, wrong, _wrong_.”

“And why is that so, uh?” He bit the place he had been sucking, and then he ran his tongue over the marks his teeth had left. You suppressed a groan and closed your eyes tightly.

“I’m going to get married.” _And it’s not with you,_ you wanted to add urgently, but his hands went down past your waist and closed on your thighs, slowly raising the fabric of your nightgown while his lips kept exploring your skin.

“Get married, then.” He kissed your collarbone and kept going down to your chest. Your fingers moved by themselves and pulled on the threads that held the front of the nightgown tied up, and then the fabric was loose on your breasts. His lips closed around the tip of one of them, sucking through the cloth that separated it from his tongue, and your hands clenched in his hair.

“James!” You exclaimed, his name fluttering on the walls of your room. He groaned against your chest at the same time that his hands kept rising, dragging your nightgown with you and exposing more and more skin, until your legs were bare and the fabric pooled on your hips.

The night began to fill with noises slowly as your breaths grew faster and your moans louder, joining the silent sound of the breeze entering the room to be a spectator of the most sinful act you have ever committed.

The moonlight bathed your bare skin as James discovered it. His mouth left your chest and he sat on his knees, drinking from the image of you, with your legs open on either side of his hips and red and swollen lips. The top of your nightgown had fallen open, a single breast being exposed so that the cold of the night bristled its tip.

James fixed his gaze on the bare center between your legs, and the heat rose to your cheeks tightly. No one had ever seen that part of you, and you felt like a common whore with your legs wide open and a bare breast. You tried to close your legs, but James held them apart and gave you a warning look.

You bit your lip and tried to focus on his face. You gasped when his fingers brushed the inside of your thigh and slowly slid down, until they were only inches from your most private part.

“I’m untouched.” You whispered, unsure of why. Did you want him to stop? The mere idea that he stopped touching you right now drove you crazy, but the rational part of you really wanted him to do it. James didn’t take his eyes off your core, and his fingers opened you carefully.

“I hoped that.” He rasped distractedly, pressing his fingers deeper between your folds, and a shot of pleasure ran through your body. James growled. “Damnit, you’re so wet.” You blushed at his language, but then his fingers brushed that bundle of nerves at the top of your center and your hips arched in his direction.

You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the pillow, closing your hands in fists at your sides while James played with you, sinking his fingers in your cunt, the sounds of your wetness adding to the song of the night you had been singing along with the wind.

His hands felt so different from yours, with rough, thick and long fingers. His thumb rubbed your clit in hard and fast circles, and you opened your mouth in a silent scream, but only his name came out as a drowned whisper.

His hands suddenly moved away from your core, and you opened your eyes, feeling disoriented. James leaned over you, his blue eyes burning like the beginning of a flame. He claimed your mouth and stole your breath, pulling the folds of the front of your dress with such force that it tore it, opening it to your stomach. 

You gasped and whined in his mouth, but his calloused hands closed over your breasts and squeezed your nipples. His fingers were wet and you blushed at the thought of how it was your excitement that he was rubbing against your skin.

Your mouth opened with his, breathing a, “Please,” before being consumed again. James lowered his hips against yours, pressing against your center, and your hands clenched in his hair when the evidence of his desire rubbed against your sensitive folds.

Your fists clenched in the thin fabric of his shirt and you pulled it, eager to feel his skin against yours. Your lips parted just to lift his shirt over his head, and you threw the cloth away before running your hands down his torso, feeling every muscle and curve under his skin. 

His forehead was resting against yours and he watched you drink from him as he had done with you, and you bit your lip when you looked down and saw the bulge in his trousers.

His lips kissed just under your ear, his hands sliding under the fabric of your broken nightgown and pulling it up, past your breasts and then over your head. You found yourself naked before him, in the cold night air and bathed in the bright moonlight. His hands flew to untie his last piece of clothing, and you felt how the weight of the situation fell on you.

“Please wait.” You tried to cover yourself with your hands, but you couldn’t protect your bare skin from his eyes much more. James raised his eyes to yours, but his hands didn’t stop. He pushed his pants off his legs and leaned over you, taking your hands and pressing them against the mattress. “If I do this, I won’t be pure.”

James rubbed his nose with yours in a gentle, kind gesture, completely contrary to the hardness in his eyes. “Neither is Steve, but that doesn’t seem to matter to anyone.”

You opened your mouth to protest, to say something, but you could only let out a whine when the tip of his member rubbed against your entrance, moving up and down with the swing of his hips.

“James, please.” You sobbed, feeling his thick head press inside, pushing slowly. You tried to free your hands from his grip, but he just pressed harder against the bed.

“Say my name again.” A shadow crossed his face, and you thought you saw his eyes bathe in black, but then he blinked and the darkness was gone. He pushed again, pressing against your entrance but not entering yet. Your hands clenched into fists and your clit throbbed.

“James…” The tip stretched your entrance painfully slow, pushing into your tight core. You whined and bit your lip, waiting for the pain to come. James’s eyes were crystal clear, unfocused, as if he was drunk.

“Again.” He grunted, and his hips pushed deeper. You were so wet that his thick circumference easily slid into your core, no matter how tight you were. You closed your eyes to the pain, but the pleasure still creeped inside your veins..

“James.” You cried out louder, pushing your hips up. “James!”

He growled, low and deep from his throat, and his hips pressed together against yours. You opened your mouth in a silent gasp, feeling him completely inside of you. You could feel every curve, every vein throbbing inside your cunt, and you crossed your gaze with his.

He was so close that his breathing mixed with yours, his eyes drinking from every detail of your pain and pleasure written on your face. A smile curved his blood-red lips, and his mouth brushed yours when he murmured, “You are mine now, angel.”

And then he pushed, your breasts bouncing against his chest and your lips opening in gasps and groans that you tried to cushion with kisses and bites. The pain was dull, muted, and soon began to dissipate as he pushed deeper and deeper with each thrust.

You wished that your hands were free to travel his body, his hair, his broad shoulders. His thrusts became harder, slower, patient, and his eyes never turned away from yours. _Mine_ , he seemed to tell you, _mine and only mine, no one’s else._

You wrapped your legs around your waist, wanting to feel him as deep as you could, and your chest rose and fell with each harsh breath. His grunts and groans vibrated in your tongue every time you squeezed after a particularly strong thrust, and you drank all the sounds he made thanks to you.

The song of the night was at its peak. Your eyes clenched shut when you felt that burning pulse in your stomach, like a flame growing and growing until it burned everything in its path.

“James.” You screamed, just as he asked you to do, and his hips moved up, pushing at a new angle that made you see stars, and you felt like a huge wave of pleasure ran through your entire body. 

Your sight darkened and your legs trembled, holding impossibly tight around him. James caught your scream in his tongue, kissing you and pushing along your orgasm. You could hardly breathe by the time you came down from your cloud.

He kept pushing, chasing his own release. You could barely keep your eyes open, and his hands closed tightly with yours. His breathing became heavy and his thrusts sloppy, erratic. You looked at him through half-closed eyes with a drunk smile on your lips.

“Come for me, James. Only for me.“

His eyes burned in a sea of blackness, and his cheeks were pale, in contrast to the red lips that dripped blood over his chin. You were too exhausted to pay attention to the terrifying image in front of you, and you only groaned when his hips pushed harder.

“My dear angel. You are so sweet, so pure.” His kisses tasted of copper and withered flowers, and his hips collided painfully against yours, making you moan pitifully.

With one last thrust and a throaty growl, his hips stayed still, with his cock buried deep inside your cunt, and you felt the strange sensation of him coming inside you. A part of you knew that it wasn’t good at all, but you ignored it in favor of smiling at your lover above you.

His hands released you and his arms wrapped around your shaking body, lying on his side and pulling you with him. You rested on his chest contently, completely exhausted. His hands rubbed circles on your sweaty back, and you could feel the wetness of your excitement and blood between your thighs.

Tomorrow you can worry about the paralyzing guilt you will feel, the mortification of having delivered your virginity so easily, and having so easily accepted the darkness within your body. But now you could only rub your nose against James’s chest and wait for the sleep to come.

"James.” You whispered one last time, letting your eyes close.

“You can call me Bucky, if you want to.” You could hear the smile in his voice, but you didn’t have the strength to look him in the eye. Instead, you hummed when he stretched to cover you with your blanket and pressed a kiss on your forehead. His lips stayed there, brushing your skin. “My precious, you are mine to break and to harm. My angel, mine, mine.”

You fell asleep listening to his lullaby, and the wind cooed you good night.

Your bed was warm, soft, comfortable. You never wanted to get up, and you could barely form a line of coherent thoughts when the cold shook your body. The dream was dragged out of you like a mother tearing off the blanket that covers her son eager to keep sleeping, and you opened your eyes wearily.

It was day, you were sure of that. You tried to turn on your side, but the pain in your muscles stopped you. You groaned pitifully, and your hips burned when you tried to sit down. You rubbed your eyes, but even your wrists were flushed, as someone pressed them for a long time.

You managed to sit on your bed and pulled your hair away from your face wearily. You rubbed your wrists gently and watched as the curtains moved smoothly with the morning breeze from the open window. Your pulse quickened, a memory quickly appearing in your mind, and you turned to your dresser, hoping to see Bucky there.

But the bench of your dresser was empty, and the door was closed. You put one hand on your chest, feeling your racing heartbeat, and took one breath after another. Your nightgown was intact, with no trace of being torn in half, and the sheets on your bed were still in place. Everything was exactly where you left it the night before when you went to bed.

Had it been a dream? The idea disturbed you more than it should. It had all felt so terrifyingly real - his hands, his lips, his kisses - you couldn’t have imagined something so realistic. You remembered the cold air against your bare skin, the sensation of his teeth biting on your neck, his hands clinging to your hips…

You looked at your dresser for a second, and the sight of your engagement ring resting peacefully in an open jewelry box sent a pang of pain toward your heart. You had done this to Steve, even though you had promised never to return the favor. The overwhelming guilt enveloped you like a blanket, and you blinked to scare away the tears that burned in your eyes.

You bit your lip to endure the pain in your muscles and stood up, wrapping yourself in a robe and sliding into shoes. You ran your hands through your hair to be barely presentable before leaving your room without looking back.

You walked through the halls with hot cheeks and a knot in your stomach. You hoped to avoid Norine and Steve as much as you could, but living in the same house as them, you doubted you would be so lucky. You saw servants here and there, but none spoke to you more than a short ‘Good afternoon’. How long had you slept?

Finally, you found Bucky - _James_ , you remembered yourself, standing on one of the manor’s many balconies. As all the windows and balconies did, the main sight was the dark and infinite forest that surrounded the manor in all directions, and James seemed to be engrossed in watching the leaves moving with the wind.

He laid his eyes on you and his lips spread in a mocking smile. His eyes shone with mischief, as if remembering the events of the previous night. It was strange, seeing this smiling James after witnessing that dark and serious side of him. But of course, maybe that James had never existed, maybe you had only dreamed it.

“Ah, Y/N, you finally woke up. You missed a great breakfast.” He rested his elbows on the railing, tilting his body dangerously over the edge. You had a feeling that nothing would happen to him if he fell, even though you were on a third floor.

“I want to talk to you.” You said, your voice hoarse, and you were surprised at how sore your throat was too. You couldn’t remember if your screams were strong enough to cause this kind of pain. “It’s about something important.”

“Hm.” James hummed, looking at you over his shoulder from top to bottom, and you remembered what it was like to feel under his gaze. “Go ahead, I’m listening.” His indifference bothered you, but you pressed your lips and got closer to the railing with him. The intensity of his gaze burned, so you looked at the forest instead.

“Last night…” You took a deep breath. “What happened last night…”

“Didn’t you like me to accompany you to your room?” He tilted his head to the side, his hair in a ponytail at the back of his neck. His blue eyes showed no emotion, and you gasped for an answer.

“No, is not that. What happened after, in my room…” You felt like the words slipped from your mouth like scared mice, and you killed your desire to run away and pretend that nothing had ever happened. His eyes kept studying you carefully. "What we did…”

James shook his head, the lightest frown on his forehead. “What are you talking about?”

Your heart pounded against your chest and your breathing almost stopped. So if it was a dream, you had imagined everything. You hadn’t betrayed Steve, you hadn’t delivered your virginity to your fiance’s dearest friend on a silver tray, you hadn’t let the darkness whisper sweet words in your ears all night long…

“I…” You stopped, thinking about what to say, and your gaze stopped on his lips. The heat rose to your face, and you squeezed your gown closer around you. James approached you, and you jumped when his hands fell on your shoulders.

“Adapting to the manor can be difficult, I know. You don’t have to give me explanations.” He said, his voice surprisingly soft. You thought he would take the opportunity to make fun of you, as you had noticed that he liked doing so much. Instead, his smile was warm and friendly. How many versions are there of James Barnes?

You returned the gesture, relieved that everything had been just a dream. Even so, your muscles ached with every movement and sunlight burned your eyes in a strange way. “Thank you, James.”

He tilted his head to the side, and there was that insufferable smile of his, full of malice and mockery. His eyes shone with that emotion that, even now, made your hair stand on end. “I thought I told you to call me Bucky.”

You looked up sharply, and every muscle in your body tensed at the same time. Suddenly, Bucky’s hands no longer felt warm and comforting but burning and heavy, forcing you to keep still in your place.

You searched frantically for something in his expression that told you he was joking, but there was only that gleam of cruelty hidden deep in his gaze.

“I don’t understand…” Your voice faded, and you took a step back, letting Bucky’s hands fall. Bucky crossed them in front of him, covered in black gloves again. Had he worn them last night? The pain in your temples clouded your memories.

“You don’t have to, my angel.” He murmured, so that only you would listen to him, as if the walls could hear him and tell his secrets to the servants. Maybe they could. You opened your mouth to demand explanations, but a voice called from the balcony door.

A pale blonde maid stared at the floor, her hands and slender shoulders protruding in her gray dress. Bucky barely looked at her, too distracted in torturing you.

“Mr. Rogers would like to speak with you, Mr. Barnes.” Her voice was small, trembling, but a note of fury obscured her words. You were too shocked to notice much more of her, and Bucky cupped your face in his hand, the cold leather against your skin.

“I’ll see you, then. And don’t forget to eat, we want you healthy and strong.” He said, his voice commanding, not asking, and you nodded with trembling lips and unfocused eyes. Your head throbbed while you watched as he disappeared down the hall, the maid following closely, and pressed your hands against your stomach. You wanted to vomit.

You returned to your room at a slow pace, disoriented. What had really happened? What did James want from you? Your body ached and your head throbbed, so you approached your bed with desires to sink back into it and never wake up.

You pulled the pale sheets apart and let them fall on the floor with a gasp, your hands shaking. You stepped back and stared at your bed. With its pillows and cushions sewn with golden threads and thick white sheets, the bright color of blood stood out to the eye.

You felt like a lump went up your throat, because you had been so rushed to leave that morning that you hadn’t noticed the blood of your lost virginity staining your thighs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a lazy bitch and wrote this one day before the deadline. Also, can you see how much I fucking hate writing sex scenes? Not because I dislike it, but because I fucking suck at it. It’s so bad, oh God.
> 
> So, spoiler alert: don’t fucking trust anyone. This is gonna be a series, a dark one indeed, so if that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, please don’t read. Let’s keep negativity out of ourselves, okay? Okay.
> 
> As always, let me know of you saw any mistake and please leave a comment if you like it (or, rather, hate it, because that sex scene sure ruins it)!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The days pass in the manor and you find yourself trapped inside your thoughts of insanity and lust. Trying to understand the manor and it’s inhabitants better, you meet a pale maid and a dark lumberjack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for @darkficsyouneveraskedfor‘s A Picture Says a Thousand Words Writing Challenge in Tumblr. I love Roo and I love participating in her challenges, so I couldn’t let this one pass! You may have noticed that the first chapter of this fic was also written for her other writing challenge, so it was fun to make a continuation for her again!
> 
> This is also one of my two fics for this writing challenge, so stay turned for the other one, a Peggy Carter boarding school AU, if you’re interested in that.
> 
> Eternal thanks to @its–fandom–darling for being my beta again. I don’t know what I would do without you, my darling <3

The days in the manor pass in a strange way; sometimes you felt that you only had time to take a breath before the night fell, while at other times the day took its sweet time to end. You didn’t know what kind of days you hated more.

Almost a month in the manor made you miss your family and your home with a burning passion, and it seems that the letters you write to them each week fade into the air as soon as they leave your hands. Steve warned you that correspondence was slow in the manor, and that it would take a couple more weeks before an answer came.

So you spend your days with Norine, chatting for hours under the sun in the gardens or helping the maids in the kitchen with the food. In the last week, Norine had fulfilled her promise to slip into your bed in the middle of the night and you both spent a couple of nights whispering stories and giggles.

Sometimes, when you were silent without daring to look her in the eye, she would take your hand and squeeze it tightly. You hadn’t cried in front of her since you were children, and you had no intentions of doing so again, but when you felt her head lean on your shoulder and murmur her love for you, you felt the tears burning in your eyes.

Steve pressed cold kisses on your cheeks or on your forehead every time he saw you, and your heart stopped for a second every time. You clenched your lips and swallowed the bitter feeling of guilt you felt every time you saw him, but he didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. A part of you expected him to realize that something was wrong with you, but as always, Steve didn’t really look at you.

And then there was James.

A shiver went up your back every time you came across him. He stayed with Steve most of the time, but you used to see him venture into the woods with the lumberjack and return hours later with his arms full of wood. His eyes followed you whenever you were in the same room as him, and his smile was still sharp like a knife.

Neither you nor he had talked about what happened that night, when you ripped the bloody sheets off your bed and hid them deep in your closet. Most of the time he ignored you, almost refusing to talk to you, but your secret shone behind every smile that he send your way.

So you resigned yourself to spend your days in the company of people you didn’t really know, feeling smaller and smaller as time went by. You could barely sleep, but at least the terrible headache that followed the days after your night with Bucky was already gone.

You watched Norine picking berries in the garden, sitting on an old stone bench with a new book in your lap. You were running out of books to read, but you tried to enjoy them as much as possible. The afternoon sun was warm, and the forest didn’t look so menacing in daylight.

“What are you thinking about?” Steve’s voice startled you, and you barely had time to see how he approached you before he took a seat next to you. His broad arm circled your shoulders and his legs stretched in front of him. You always felt smaller than you really are by his side.

“About how you haven’t taken us to the lake as you promised.” You allowed yourself to smile at him, closing the book gently. Steve sighed, but there was no annoyance in the gesture..

“I don’t remember promising anything about a trip to the lake.” His hand closed on your shoulder, pushing you closer to him. Norine was still distracted collecting berries, but greeted Steve with a smile before returning to her work. “Besides, Bucky will want to go with us, and I’m sure you haven’t found a swimsuit to cover you yet, right?”

The smile slipped from your face with the mention of Bucky, and you looked away, hoping Steve didn’t realize your sudden discomfort.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t let him see me like that.” You murmured, resting your head on his chest. His shoulders tensed at the movement, but you felt him relax as he put his arm around your back. You fiddled with the fabric of his shirt. “Another time, maybe.”

Steve’s fingers ran down your back absentmindedly, and you fell silent for a few minutes. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and pretend it would always be this way; a loving husband and a glamorous manor with a garden full of fruits and flowers. You opened your eyes and spotted Norine farther than you had seen her last time, with her basket full.

You wanted to stay like this all day, but you could feel Steve was eager to get away from you. You pressed your lips and straightened, swallowing the sadness and forcing another smile on your face. Steve smoothed the wrinkles on his shirt, looking at the forest.

“I have issues to attend to.” His voice was calm, steady, and you nodded tensely. That was his usual excuse lately, and you were surprised he had even stopped to talk to you at all. His eyes fixed on something behind you and his shoulders tensed in an almost invisible way, but you could tell in an instant.

You didn’t have to turn around to know who was approaching behind you. You squeezed the book in your lap and held your breath while Steve put a tight smile on his face, “Bucky, I thought you were still in the forest with Monroe.”

“The hunt was short, the deer didn’t run too far.” Bucky stopped by your side, casting a shadow over your face. His smile seemed harmless, gentle, and his eyes stopped on you for a second longer than necessary. “It didn’t really want to live, apparently.”

His voice sent a stab to your chest, and you dared to look at him for the first time in what felt like months. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty, with mud in his shoes and pants. His gloves were still in place, and his dark hair was tucked into his neck. He looked so human and harmless, your heart skipped a beat.

“It would be good if you take a bath before dinner.” Steve stood up, looking at his best friend’s appearance with a raised eyebrow. There was no tension in his shoulders or his voice, and you were surprised at how quickly Steve changed his mood around Bucky.

Bucky laughed brightly, squeezing his shoulder and pushing him away. “Go do your business, pretty boy. You will mess up your nails if you stay out here in the dirt with me and with Y/N.”

The sound of your name coming from his lips startled you, and Bucky winked at you playfully. The gesture didn’t go unnoticed by Steve, who clenched his jaw and stepped back. You realized too late that you would be alone with Bucky again, and your stomach turned.

“Behave.” Steve pointed at Bucky with a firm movement of his chin, but you couldn’t figure out the tone in which he said it. Bucky’s eyes shone, but he only smiled in response as you both watched Steve walk away toward the manor.

Your fingers followed the letters on the cover of your book absentmindedly, trying to calm your nerves before looking up again. Bucky was already looking at you when you faced him, and his intense gaze took your breath away. There was that glow in his eyes again; the one that made you want to run as far away from him.

“Why aren’t you with Norine? Whenever I see you, you are attached to her hip.” His tone was light, friendly, but the way his eyes follow each of your movements made you doubt the intentions hidden behind his question.

“I wanted to read a little. I haven’t had much time for it these last days.” You hated how your voice sounded small and helpless compared to his. You had never been very loud or firm when speaking, and many times you had been told you that it was something attractive, but this was the first time that you wish you had just a little of Norine’s noisy character.

Bucky seemed to taste the lie on your lips.

“The manor requires a lot of work, I know, but it is part of its charm. You will get used with time.” Bucky took a seat next to you, miraculously keeping his distance. You could see Norine chatting with a maid in the distance, and you wished she would come back to you sooner rather than later.

You analyzed his words with a bitter gesture. You doubted that the manor had some kind of charm, and you didn’t want to _get used_ to it, you wanted to leave it as soon as possible. You bit your lip to avoid saying something rude. Bucky’s eyes fixed on the movement for a second before it focused on your eyes again.

“I don’t even fully know it yet. I feel like a new room appears every day.” You forced yourself to look him in the eye, trying not to think about that stare as he pressed against you like that night. You hoped that the heat on your cheeks at the thought was not very noticeable.

Bucky hummed in agreement, pulling a strand of hair off your shoulder absentmindedly. The brush of his fingers left a shiver in your skin.

“That’s because the manor grows during the night.” He said, the corner of his lip rising. You could hear the mockery in his voice. “It feeds on darkness.”

“Oh, please.” You smiled against your own judgment, perhaps because of the way he talked to you like an old friend or his harmless appearance. “You’re just trying to scare me, as if I’m still a little girl.”

You ignored the fact that you were already scared of the manor, without needing his help. You still covered your face with the sheets when you went to sleep and on especially dark nights, you left a couple of candles burning.

Bucky shrugged slightly, following the edge of the forest line just as Steve had done a few minutes earlier. “I don’t need a story to scare you.”

His voice was deeper, darker when he said those last words in the wind. You remembered that night again, the way in which his charm and flirtation had disappeared to give way to a darkness and hunger that you had never seen before. His voice sounded the same now.

You found yourself stroking your engagement ring. It hurt to look at it, but you had barely taken it off since that night. The little diamond shone in the sun, and sometimes you found yourself staring at it until it dazzled you. You could feel Bucky’s look on your skin, hot and eager.

“How was the hunt? You said the deer was easy to catch.” You changed the subject abruptly, hoping that he would follow the conversation and not object. You could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke.

“Oh yeah. Monroe is a fantastic hunter, he keeps our stomachs full. The least I can do is accompany him, although I am never very helpful, if I am honest.” A glow appeared in his eyes so fast that you could barely see him before he disappeared.

Bucky seemed to have the alarming ability to read you as an open book, no matter how hard you tried to hide your reactions from him. Maybe he was good at reading people, or maybe you were just that obvious, but the knowledge that he always knew what you’re really thinking made your hair stand on end.

But, as much as he knew how to read you, you were learning to do the same with him. It was strange, the way he acted. He seemed to hide everything behind smiles and winks, in the same way that Steve hid his thoughts in coldness and seriousness. But there was something in the way the brightness of his eyes blinked when he spoke of the hunter. Maybe you couldn’t read it like him to you, but you were sure of something. He was hiding something from you.

"Have you known him for a long time?” You asked, outlining your ring distractedly. Bucky’s eyes drifted to your fingers, and his smile faltered.

“My father brought him to the manor when he was a child. He was orphaned at an early age, so he grew up here under the tutelage of the Rogers.” His smile was tight, and you realized he wanted to change the subject. You would not do such a thing, now that you had discovered how to bother him in the same way that he bothers you.

“So you grew up together?” It was an innocent, gentle question, but Bucky clenched his jaw and his fingers clenched on the hard edge of the bench.

“Not exactly.” His voice sounded relaxed, soft, but the lie was loud. His hand suddenly closed on your shoulder and you jumped at the contact on your skin. Bucky just laughed, the sound low and thick, and you wanted to push his hand away, but his grip was firm, almost menacing. You remembered the way he held you the morning you faced him on your night together, and the same feeling of vulnerability invaded you.

He leaned closer to you, and your breathing became deeper. You could see his beard more closely now, and the gray ring that surrounded the blue of his eyes. A heat moved from your cheeks down, and you pressed your nails into your palms to distract you from his smell.

His lips parted in a smile, and he whispered his words against your cheek.

“Norine is coming for you.” His hot breath warmed your skin, and you jumped away from him when your friend’s heavy footsteps approached the path. Bucky moved back to his place again, and his hand released the grip on your shoulder. You were tempted to rub the skin he had squeezed, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you so bewildered.

“Y/N, dear!” Norine walked steadily toward you, her pink lips curved in the slightest of smiles. Her hair fell in wet and messy waves over her face and her hands were dirty, but she looked just as dazzling as ever. The relief and nervousness of seeing her approach you overwhelmed you. You wanted to take her hand and get her away from Bucky as soon as possible.

She gave Bucky her best smile when she was close enough, “James, what a delight to see you in the daylight. I would swear that you hide from us, seeing how little we meet each other.”

Bucky smiled back brightly, “This weather doesn’t favor me, unfortunately. I’d rather meet with you at the security of the manor during dinner.”

Norine opened her mouth to tell him her sharp answer, but you stood up before she could do it. You took her hand full of dirt in yours and took a look at Bucky behind you.

“We should take these berries to the kitchen.” You said, almost too low for Bucky to listen. Norine nodded, squeezing your hand gently. Her smile softened when she looked at you, leaving behind the coquetry she used every time he talked to Bucky. A coquetry that was returned.

“Yes, we should. See you at dinner, James. Make sure you wash those boots when you enter the dining room.” Norine gave him another dazzling smile before pushing you with her hip in the direction of the manor. Bucky just nodded, his lips barely curved up.

You squeezed Norine’s hand to stand on the ground and ignored his gaze until you entered the manor.

Norine fell asleep in your bed after taking a warm bath to clean the dirt and sweat on her skin. You folded her clean clothes at the foot of the bed and left a glass of water on the dresser for when she woke up, and you let her sleep while you went to the laundry to wash her dirty dress. You wish you could sleep as quietly as she did.

You had tried to keep yourself occupied for the last few days, trying not to think about your lost virtue and the lurking shadows, so you already knew the way to the kitchen and the laundry by heart. A few maids were already scrubbing and hanging cloths when you entered the laundry, but they barely gave you a look when you greeted them.

You finished washing the dress sooner than you would have liked, and now you found yourself with more free time on your hands. The other maids seemed too focused on their own jobs to pay you attention, so you hung up the dress and left the laundry room with sore fingers and the torso of your dress wet.

You didn’t want to wander around the dark corridors aimlessly, and a light rain fell outside, so you couldn’t escape the shadows in the garden either. Letting out a defeated sigh, you headed almost mechanically to the kitchens. Maybe you could help make dinner there.

Surprisingly, the kitchen was almost empty. It was a small room, with painted walls of what was once white but now was a dull gray. Two windows let the light into the room and showed an open view of the forest. The rain didn’t allow much sunlight to enter at that time, but there were still several hours left for the night, so there was no need to light a lamp or candle yet. There was a dark wooden door in the wall furthest from you that overlooked the garden, a door for the maids.

The few servants of the manor were engaged in other matters, and only a young maid sat on a wooden bench peeling vegetables with fingers as thin as the knife she held.

Her pale hair was cluttered out of her face, and her eyes were too sunken in her face to see what color they were at this distance. Your stomach took a turn while you watched her work, her shoulders so thin that you could see them through her dress. She sank so much in herself and with the shadows of the room that you barely noticed she was there.

Her movements were slow, tired, but there was a determination hidden in them. As if she was too exhausted to do any kind of work, but she didn’t let herself give up. Even if such a work was to peel vegetables.

Perhaps it was the devastating loneliness you had been feeling the last few days, but it seemed that, for the first time, you had found someone who hated the manor as much as you.

"Hello.” Despite your soft, low tone, your voice echoed in the room.

The maid looked up, her big eyes outlined by dark circles, and there was no gleam of emotion in her eyes. If your sudden arrival had surprised her, she gave no sign of it. Her expression was blank, without any feeling, and you felt a turn in your stomach.

“Do you need help with that? I can make dinner with you, if you want to.” You asked softly, daring to take another step in the room. Your steps sounded unusually louder, and your breathing felt much heavier than usual. Like any other room in the manor, this one seemed to be closing around you and was stealing your breath. “My name is Y/N, by the way.”

“I know who you are, my lady.” Her voice was calm, serene, but there was a tiredness in her that caught your attention. It seemed that she hadn’t slept in days, and her skin was so pale that you could distinguish her colorful veins. “You don’t have to do my job, I’m fine. You can go to bed if you want.”

You frowned and shook your head slightly. “It’s okay, I like to help. I’ve lay down enough for today.” You hoped you weren’t pressing her, seeing her so fragile and crystalline, but the woman just blinked. It was as if the manor had already drained her from life. The thought sent a deep shiver down your back.

The corner of her lip rose in the slightest of smiles, and a glow appeared in her eyes. Not like Bucky’s glow, which presaged danger, or Norine’s, that dripped coquetry, but a glow of life, a breath of fresh air in a cold, uninhabited body.

She pointed to a bowl of potatoes with her chin and gave you that tiny smile, “You can start with that, if you want.”

You rolled up your dress sleeves and sat next to her, peeling the potatoes with an old knife no bigger than your hand. You tried to hide your smile, but it seemed that you could not contain your joy of having finally met someone new and normal in the manor.

“Has your trip been pleasant, my lady?” She asked, her thin fingers like brittle branches peeling carrots carefully. Her question was innocent, gentle, but it still made you nervous. You didn’t want to start a friendship based on lies, but you couldn’t tell her that you hated every moment you spent under this roof.

“It has been nice, yes.” You lied, and you wondered if Bucky could hear the lie coming from your lips if he were here. You brushed your thought off sharply.

The maid looked at her knife carefully, concentrating on her work, but you knew she was paying attention to you too. The corner of her mouth lifted gently, as if she wasn’t used to smiling. “My name is Celeste Cause, by the way.”

You gave her a smile, feeling like a weight rose slowly from your shoulders. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Cause.” Celeste shook her head, a soft blush coloring her pale cheeks. You looked at her carefully. “What’s wrong?”

Celeste shrugged almost invisibly, “No one has called me miss in a long time, that’s all.”

You watched her work for a few more moments before continuing with your own work, wondering if Steve and his family had treated the servitude well here. You hoped that the emaciated state of Celeste is not due to lack of pay, or else you will have to have a long conversation with your fiance.

“Then I suppose you will be my miss from now on, if that seems good to you.” You dared to look at her through the hair that slipped on your face. Celeste stopped her movements and looked at you. Her gaze was disturbing, like looking into the eyes of a corpse, but that glow of life was still sparking, so you held her gaze.

She opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, as if she wasn’t sure what to say. Her fingers trembled slightly before she clenched them into fists, and then nodded. “That’s fine with me, ma'am.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. Celeste smiled the smallest of grins. “You don’t have to call me ma'am. I’m not married yet.” You peeled the potatoes calmly, listening to the sound of the knife when cutting.

Celeste’s fingers tightened on her own knife, and her shoulders tensed again. You frowned, wondering what you said wrong. Celeste clenched her lips, avoiding your gaze. You frantically thought of something to say to fill the silence of the room. You were beginning to feel like the walls closed over you again.

“Have you been working at the Rogers manor for a long time?” You tried to sound casual and gentle, fearing to be invading her privacy. Celeste’s shoulders were still tense, but she looked up to look at you briefly before answering.

“Only a few years. Some workers have been here for decades, like Monroe.” She pronounced the name in a whisper, as if she feared his mere mention. It was obvious that she wanted to change the subject, but you weren’t sure how or why.

“Are you treated well here?” You regretted asking the question as soon as it came out of your lips, making a face. Your mother would have reprimanded you for being so rude. Celeste let out a laugh, surprising you. It was a dry, bitter sound, and there was no joy in it. Celeste’s eyes turned to stone when she looked at you.

“They treat me wonderfully.” She said, her voice more challenging, and her fingers clenched her knife tightly. You recognized her then; the maid who had gone to look for Bucky the morning you faced him about your dream. It was the same fury contained behind cracked lips and crystal eyes.

Celeste seemed to realize her sudden change of mood, and her shoulders sank, the fury disappearing from her eyes. You had a feeling that her anger wasn’t directed at you, but that didn’t make her less alarming. Celeste stared at her hands, her thin fingers trembling.

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” Her voice was the same as before, if even lower. You looked at her with raised eyebrows, wondering what bothered her. Maybe the manor tormented her too. You didn’t bother to correct it with the title again.

“It’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for.” You assured her, giving her a small reassuring smile. Celeste stole a look in your direction. Her paleness had not ceased to amaze you, and the dark bags under her eyes made her look older than she surely was.

Celeste looked at you for a few seconds before returning to work, “Have you been sleeping well?” You looked up at her, finding her staring at you. A note of concern was hiding behind her question, and you wondered how she knew what to ask.

“I–” The words got stuck in your throat when the door that led out opened, startling you. Celeste barely flinched, but her eyes widened in alarm when she saw who had entered.

You recognized his dark hair and thick beard, but with the ax hanging from his hand it would have been enough to identify him. Monroe entered the kitchen with a deer hanging from his broad shoulders, breathing heavily. There were raindrops running down his face and splashing his clothes, but he didn’t seem to notice them. His stormy eyes didn’t even look in your direction when the dead deer dropped on the table.

“You have work to do, Celeste.” His voice was deep and rough, like the bark of the trees he cut. You were facing back when he pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut the deer’s skin. You gasped and looked away, feeling your stomach rise to your throat.

Monroe turned around then, his eyes looking over his shoulder in your direction. He looked at Celeste for half a second before he noticed you, and his entire body tensed. His eyes stared at you for more than necessary before he looked away sharply, as if rebuking himself. The sensation of being observed came back to you strongly, and the way he stared you from top to bottom reminded you of someone else you wanted to avoid at all costs.

Celeste moved away from your side quickly, leaving the vegetables aside and standing up to approach Monroe. His eyes came back to you for half a second, a strange look on them, and you wondered if you should be there.

“You must be tired, let me serve you something to eat and drink.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and you noticed the big difference in size between them. While Monroe was wide and tall, Celeste was short and thin, like a leaf. Her hand was trembling on his shoulder, but if Monroe noticed, he did nothing about it.

Monroe was still stealing glances in your direction, and, without saying a word, took a seat in a table chair, with the half-skinned deer right in front of him. Celeste hurried to find something to eat, finding some slices of bread and a cup of milk. Monroe kept looking at you while Celeste put the plate in front of him, and Celeste’s gaze bounced between you two. Her hands clenched her dirty apron nervously.

Monroe barely touched his food. He was younger than you had guessed when you saw him from afar, perhaps a few years older than you, but his beard already had gray patches here and there. His gray eyes like smoke followed each of your movements. You felt like a prey, and not even Celeste’s nervous presence could stop your beating heartbeat.

Monroe finally took a bite of the bread, taking his eyes off you. Some flies flew over the deer, but neither Celeste nor Monroe nor you moved towards it. Celeste returned to your side quickly, her shoulders tense and her fingers clenched into small fists.

“We will have deer be the dinner today, ma'am.” Monroe’s thick voice startled you, and you could barely stop your body from jumping away from his voice. Monroe took a long swallow of milk, his thick fingers closing around the cup tightly, as if he was holding back. His eyes were bright when he put it down, and a chill went up your back.

“Just because you could bring it to the table, sir.” You tried to take refuge in your manners, flattering him, but that only earned you a laugh as dry and bitter as Celeste’s. Unlike her, Monroe moved with a darker, more somber purpose. The darkness of the manor surrounded him like a blanket, and he seemed to accept it with pleasure. You swallowed, and his smoking eyes followed the movement of your throat with parted lips.

“Things don’t have much flavor around here, I’m afraid.” He said then, his eyes returning to your face and taking another bite of his bread. “What is dead always tastes dead.”

“ _Monroe_.” Celeste warned, but her eyes didn’t look at him and her voice trembled. You wanted to comfort her and get her away from Monroe, even if you weren’t sure why. Monroe ignored her and you were forced back into the conversation.

“Things die in this manor, you see.” Monroe continued, his eyes searching frantically for yours. The way he looked at you reminded you of a madman, someone who saw things where they weren’t. You were not the one to judge, however, considering recent events in your life.

Your own hands were shaking slightly from where you held them in your lap. You cleared your throat gently, “What… what do you mean?” You were afraid to ask, but curiosity over came your wariness. You took a look at Celeste, but she also looked at Monroe with her eyes wide open.

Monroe seemed delighted. “Ah, nobody has told you yet.” He hummed, leaning back in his seat and swallowing the last on his cup. His eyes shone. “People avoid this area, this manor. They refuse invitations to dinners, or parties, even to take tea. They risk looking rude just to stay away from the Rogers Manor, did you know?”

His deep voice dragged the words like a father telling his son a bedtime story, but the way his fingers drummed against the table every few seconds made you nervous.

You shook your head, confused. You thought you were the only one who felt repudiated in the manor, who would rather stay away from it as much as possible, but Monroe told it with such security and conviction that it was hard for you not to believe him.

“The few who agree to spend a few days here, whether for manners or fear, begin to feel the effects of the manor in a short time.” Monroe continued, his eyes shining and sparking. His stare turned your stomach, and Celeste squeezed your hand.

“What happens with them?” Your voice was barely a whisper, and you would be surprised if they could hear it above the sound of rain falling against the windows. The sky was dark and the room lacked lighting. The darkness swallowed you slowly. Celeste seemed to feel as restless as you, but her eyes found you in the gloom.

“People start to get sick.” Her voice came whispering, nervous, as if she was afraid to say those words out loud. Monroe nodded, the corner of his mouth rising. “They stop eating and drinking, and can only be in bed all day.”

“They can’t sleep, either.” Monroe tapped the ground rhythmically, as if to remain calm. His eyes fixed on yours, forcing you to be still in your seat. “Nightmares where darkness pulls them out of their beds and throws them out the window. People run away from here before their dreams come true and they can’t get out of bed again.”

Celeste nibbled her lip nervously, so different from the cold and stoic girl you had met before Monroe arrived. Your gaze bounced between the two, looking for answers where you knew you wouldn’t find them.

Monroe leaned forward, ignoring the deer in front of him. He only had eyes for you, and his crazy look kept you in your place. “Tell me something, Y/N, have you been sleeping well?”

Your heart stopped for a beat, and the rain fell harder outside. Celeste looked at you with big eyes and Monroe impatient, as if waiting for you to do something against him.

“She certainly has, I hope.” A new voice joined the silence of the kitchen, and you jumped in your seat, tearing your gaze from Monroe. Celeste tensed even more than she had been, if that was possible, and her hand held on to yours when her eyes met Steve.

Monroe stood up, showing no hint of shame or regret. His frenzied look was gone, and now he looked like Celeste had done when you found her just an hour earlier. His eyes were dead like those of the deer, and Steve scanned him from head to toe before looking at you. He didn’t even bother to look at Celeste, and a part of you was relieved by it.

His gaze burned your skin, and you forced yourself to stand up too. Steve stepped closer to you, and Celeste shivered almost invisibly. You looked behind Steve, noticing the closed door. When had he entered, and how did you not hear him?

“Dear,” Steve offered his hand, and you looked at it for a few quiet seconds before taking it. Steve pulled you to his side, and you pressed hard against his chest. You clenched your jaw to avoid protesting, and Steve stroked your back in a gesture that you could have sworn was affectionate, if you didn’t know him better.

“I was chatting with Monroe and Celeste, to get to know the manor’s staff better.” You forced a smile, putting a hand on his chest to get his attention, but Steve just looked at Monroe carefully. Monroe didn’t flinch under his gaze, and you noticed with a small gasp as his fingers trembled above the ax attached to his belt.

Finally, Monroe nodded in a respectful gesture, even though his gaze said the opposite. “Sir.” He said in his husky and deep voice, his gray eyes hiding a storm behind them. Steve returned the greeting with a cynical smile pulling his lips. His hand tightened on your back.

“Norine is looking for you, dear.” You frowned, but then Steve put his eyes on you, and you knew he was talking to you. The smile had not disappeared from his lips. “She wants to see you, right now.”

You heard the unsaid command in his words, and you had to bite your tongue again. You glanced at Celeste, who was still sitting with the bowl of vegetables and the knife clinging tightly in her hands. Her eyes met yours and your heart cringed to see the pain in them.

Steve shoved you out, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. With one last look at the motionless Monroe and the trembling Celeste, you opened the kitchen door and went out into the dark hallway. You held the lead of the door tightly, and you couldn’t help but see how Steve was leaning close to Monroe, a hand clenching his shoulder and his lips brushing his ear, whispering darkness to him.

Monroe clenched his jaw, and his hand was closed on the ax at his waist. Your eyes met just before closing the door, and you were surprised to see the pure and raw emotion in them. You slammed the door and ran all the way back to your room.

Even with Norine by your side, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Celeste and Monroe had told you. Their looks and attitudes when Steve entered the room, the way Celeste’s health fit into what they had told you about the manor… Your stomach was a mess of knots.

Bucky was the first to arrive at the dining room at dinner time. You were no longer having dinner in the main dining room, which was a relief. The gigantic windows overlooking the forest robbed your breath in a bad way. The small dining room where you dined usually wasn’t exactly small, but it was much better than the main one. The windows were still large, but thin curtains covered thesm, filtering the night light.

As always, it took you a few seconds to calm your breathing and your heartbeat before entering the dining room, wearing a simple and comfortable dress, but you still felt naked when Bucky’s gaze followed you all the way to your seat . You tried your best to avoid looking at him until Steve arrived, who bounced his gaze between you and his best friend before taking a seat next to you. His hand closed on your thigh tightly, as if he wanted to remind himself that you were there and wouldn’t go anywhere.

Norine took her time to arrive. You kept silent for most of the dinner, letting Norine and Bucky lead the conversation. They seemed to be getting along pretty well. Maybe Bucky would forget about you soon and start tormenting Norine in your place.

You bit your lip until it hurt. How could you wish something like that? You watched Norine laugh and chat happily with Bucky as if they were old friends, wondering what was going on in his head. You wanted to hate her for betraying you, you wanted to hate her forever having the attention, but your heart still clenched with love when you spent your afternoons with her.

You could barely finish your plate, images of the dead deer appearing in your head every time you took a bite. Monroe was right about something; the dead tastes like the dead, now that you saw directly where your dinner came from.

This time, Steve accompanied you to the door of your room when dinner was over and everyone had said good night. The feeling of his hand pressing your lower back burned, and you fiddled with your engagement ring when you stopped in your room, afraid to look him in the eye and see everything you hid from him in your gaze.

Norine slipped into her own room at the end of the hall with a mischievous smirk in your direction, winking at you. As if Steve was interested in you that way.

Steve lifted your chin with the tip of his finger, his blue eyes cold and hard, without a hint of the love you expected to find in them every damned time you looked into them.

“Sleep well, my dear.” His words sounded like a whisper in the dark hallway, and the story of Monroe came to mind again. You touched your ring.

“Likewise.” You could barely whisper back, and then Steve was walking away to his own room. You hoped that, at least for tonight, he would stay in his own room and Norine in hers.

You made sure that the door was well closed before doing the same with the window, covering it with the curtains and lighting two candles. You had been paranoid since that night, and you avoided spending a lot of time looking for clothes in the closet so as not to see the red sheets that you hid at the bottom of it.

Finally you slipped under the sheets of your bed, snuggling in the warmth of the pillows. You wished you could find relief in your dreams, although you knew that your nights were as disturbing as your days. You closed your eyes and let the sleep take you.

The wooden floor of your room was cold under your bare feet, and you wondered if it has always been like that, even during the day. You didn’t used to be barefoot very often.

You looked around, seeing your room blurry, as if there was something covering your eyes. You were a few steps away from your bed, looking at the window. What was behind you that you couldn’t see? Your bed, or your closet?

You squeezed your eyes, trying to remember your own room, but the images didn’t appear. You could only see the window in front of you, with the curtains open and the breeze moving the trees outside. The night wasn’t silent; it sang and screamed and danced outside your window, but you couldn’t hear anything, because it was closed.

You felt your feet move by themselves closer to the window, staring at how the shadows slipped into the mantle of darkness like fish in the water. You reached out to open the window, mesmerized by the song of the animals and the wind.

You couldn’t see your fingers, and the edges of your vision were dark. What was going on with you? You lowered your hand, realizing what you were doing. The window shook when a gust of wind hit it, and you stepped forward to make sure it was tightly closed.

You dared to look outside. The moon was hidden somewhere in the sky and the forest remained obscured, hovering over the manor like a mortal guardian. The garden was deserted, and not for the first time you were surprised how different it looked in the dark. The trees in front of your window shook in the wind, and you could swear you heard them whisper.

You touched the window with your open palm, feeling the cold glass against your skin. You stared at your hand for a few seconds, ignoring the fact that you weren’t sure it had all five fingers. Something moved out of the window, and you barely had time to look at it before a black hand hit the glass, making it tremble and delineating your own.

A scream came out of your throat as you stepped back frantically, holding your hand against your chest. Your back hit something hard, and you were wondering if it was a wall or your closet maybe. You didn’t remember where each one was.l

One hand closed on your waist and you jumped, about to scream again when another hand closed on your neck, holding but not squeezing, and you felt the rise and fall of a chest behind you. Your heart quickened and you struggled to keep calm when warm lips brushed your ear.

“Shh…” Bucky whispered, squeezing the hand on your waist gently. “You’ll wake up Norine if you keep screaming.”

Your breathing sped up in your chest, and you trembled when his lips didn’t move away from your skin. The hand on your neck slowly lowered to stop at your collarbone, pressing it firmly against your skin. Bucky sighed in your hair, pulling you against his warm body.

“Can you feel the blood running through your veins?” He whispered against your hair, his fingertips running down your neck. You could barely breathe, but he didn’t expect you to answer. “Can you feel your heart beating against your chest?”

His fingers pressed against your pulse just below your jaw, and his breath tickled your neck. You had closed the door, you were sure of it, and yet he was there, touching you like no one has ever touched you. His hands seemed to tremble with emotion in your body, as if he was restraining himself from devouring you.

“Because I do.” He growled, and his hand closed around your throat again, his fingers pressing harder than before. You gasped and your hands flew to his, sinking your nails into his skin, but Bucky just squeezed you tighter. You wish you could see his eyes, if only to see the emotion behind them. “It’s _exquisite_.”

He pushed his hips forward, and you gasped when you felt him against you, hard and hot through your nightgown. The hand on your neck loosened until he let you go, and you took a deep breath.

Bucky pressed a kiss on your neck, right where your shoulder and throat meet, and a chill went up your back when his teeth closed in that place too. A moan came out of your lips before you could hold it. You felt his smile against you, his lips kissing your battered skin with bitter sweetness.

“I’ve wanted to taste you again since that night, my angel.” Your knees shook when he pushed against you again, feeling the heat build up between your legs with every passing second. His hands ran down your hips and ribs, stopping just under your breasts. You squeezed your eyes tightly.

Bucky laughed in your ear, the sound low and deep, and his hands found yours. You opened your eyes when he guided your own palms to your breasts, pressing them against the fabric of your nightgown. You looked away, feeling the heat of emotion and humiliation rising to your cheeks. Bucky squeezed your hands and pulled your nightgown with them.

“Take this off for me.”

His hands left yours, and you found his gaze on the reflection of the window pane. His blue eyes glowed in the dark like flames, and the pure and raw desire in them made your legs weaken. Your fingers trembled on the buttons that held your nightgown closed in your chest, but you preferred to take it off yourself than having him would tearing it from you.

Bucky hummed against your skin, pressing wet kisses on your neck and shoulders while your fingers slowly unbuttoned your nightgown. His hips rocked against yours in a slow sway, and the heat that accumulated between your thighs grew until it was impossible for you to ignore it anymore.

Finally, the last button was unmade, but the folds were still in place, hiding your bare skin from the predatory eyes of the man behind you. Bucky hummed happily, his nose brushing your cheek in an affectionate gesture. He was the same Bucky you knew during the day, so roguish and mocking, but so different from that Bucky you met the night you lost your virtue.

His hands slid down your shoulders and under the cloth, slowly going down your arms and taking your nightgown with them, exposing more and more skin to the cold night air. Your room was cold, but your skin burned where his hands touched it, and the cloth ended up accumulated on your hips, your chest exposed.

You pressed your face against his neck, biting your lip to stop a whine when his hands went back up your arms, leaving a trace of heat behind them.

“Please stop.” Your words sounded so small and helpless, you hated them as soon as they left your mouth. Bucky just smiled against your skin, and his fingers brushed the hardened tips of your breasts. You swallowed a gasp and closed your eyes, sinking your nails into his hip. “Enough, don’t do this, please.”

“You don’t want to say that, angel.” His raspy words cut the air, but his hands moved away from you. You let out a sigh of relief when he backed away, pulling away from your body, and your hands flew to cover your chest. You looked over your shoulder and saw him standing just behind you, his eyes running up and down with hunger.

“You must leave. Now.” You didn’t sound as firm as you would have liked, but you couldn’t afford to keep quiet until he decided to leave. Bucky raised an eyebrow, his eyes changing for the slightest second. He stepped closer to you and you jumped out of reach. "Don’t touch me!”

He stopped, his eyes hardened. His shoulders tensed, and he took a firm step closer to you. You tried not to shake under his gaze. This was the Bucky you had met only for one night, the one who had asked you to scream for him, the one who had _made_ you scream for him. His gaze was as penetrating as last time.

“Turn around.” The tone in which he said it and the look in his eyes told you that you had no choice but to obey, so you turned around shakily, looking at the floor instead of him. You couldn’t see anything behind his tall body, but you seemed to vaguely distinguish your bed. You still weren’t sure what your room looked like.

His hands removed yours from your chest, and you flinched to being so naked under his gaze again. You wondered how you had succumbed so easily that night, how you had let he touch you so cheerfully when now you just wanted to throw him out of your room and cry the rest of the night.

His hands still held yours and he pulled you until your chest was against his. You noticed for the first time the long shirt and gray pants he wore, almost the same as he had worn the first night. Your nipples rubbed the fabric of his shirt and you squeezed your thighs to relieve the tension that was building up between them.

Bucky buried a hand in your hair, taking a handful and pushing your face toward his. You swallowed a whine of pleasure and pain, hoping to find his lips, but he just pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes drinking from fear in your eyes.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He whispered, his hand clenching in your hair and making you moan. His eyes widened and his lips parted, and you couldn’t keep your eyes from turning to them. Bucky growled, a low, deep sound from his throat that sent chills through your body, and he leaned down until his mouth found yours.

His kiss was hungry, as if he wanted to devour you, and because of the way he held your hair with one hand and your hip with the other, you wouldn’t be surprised that he really tried. You groaned against his tongue, clinging to his arms to keep you standing. Your body was buzzing with a mixture of fear and excitement, and you were still not sure which emotion would win over you.

You could feel him walking but you were too consumed by his touch that you didn’t even try to fight and let him take you to bed, his lips separating from you to allow you to breathe. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled you between his legs, his hands resting on your hips and his eyes staring at your face.

“Do you want me to stop now, angel?” His lips pressed a kiss between your breasts, his eyes never leaving yours, and you closed them to avoid his gaze. His lips closed on the tip of your chest and you bit your tongue to avoid moaning, leaning on his shoulders to keep your balance.

His tongue circled your nipple slowly before sucking it between his lips, and you took a deep breath. It was too much; he was barely touching you, but it was too much. You felt the tears burning in your eyes but you refused to cry for him, you refused to let him know how much his touch affected you.

He hummed against your chest and his hands pulled the fabric of your nightgown down your hips, pulling and pulling and pulling until it was pooling on the floor and only your underwear covered your most private part. Bucky released your nipple with a wet sound and looked towards your center, his fingers brushing the edge of your underwear before looking into your eyes.

You looked back at him through a layer of tears, and his eyes didn’t depart from yours as they slowly lowered the fabric down your thighs until it joined your nightgown at your feet. Now you were completely naked and at his mercy, the smile that stretched his lips told you that he knew it.

He took your hips and you screamed when he lifted you effortlessly, lying you on the bed and hovering over you. Memories of the last time you were in this position warmed your skin, and Bucky wasted no time getting out of his own clothes. You wanted to look away more than once, but Bucky held your chin in his direction every time you tried to look any other thing than him.

The room was still dark and the night was still dancing outside your window, but it was difficult for you to concentrate on something other than the man who leaned over you, pressing hot kisses between your breasts and on your stomach. Your hands clung to his shoulders like an anchor.

“Please, Bucky.” You didn’t know why you were begging, but the urge to say something burned in your throat. His fingers found the heat between your legs and your back arched when they pressed your bundle of nerves, letting out a shaky breath. “Please, _please_ , enough.”

Bucky pressed a kiss on your cheek, ignoring your pleas, and sank two fingers into your heat. Moans slipped from your mouth that Bucky swallowed with his own, silencing you with his tongue. His fingers he pumped his fingers in and out of you, curving so deeply that you feared how far they could go. The tension in your stomach grew more and more and the tears accumulated in your eyes.

You whined against his mouth when his fingers curved against a spot inside you that made you see stars, and he didn’t stop even when you scratched his back and bit his lips, lengthening your orgasm until you couldn’t stop the groans that glided down your throat.

“Slow down.“ Your voice was thick with tears, but you had managed to keep them at bay until now. Bucky pressed a last kiss on your lips and brushed your clitoris with the palm of his hand before pulling his fingers from you, dragging his fingers damp with your excitement around your waist. Moving you like a ragdoll, he pressed your hip until you were lying on your side, your back pressed against his chest.

Your breathing was laborious and your eyes were closing tiredly, but you were afraid that he wouldn’t stop even if you fell asleep, so you pulled the messy hair off your face and looked over your shoulder, seeing him settle behind you until your bodies were pressed one with the other. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, a contrast with your sweaty and too hot body.

With his body outlining yours and his breathing burning in your neck, he hooked the inside of your knee with his hand and raised your leg over his thigh, opening you for him. The heat of humiliation for being so exposed burned on your face.

Bucky kissed your cheek, “Will you scream for me, angel?” His other hand slid under your body and leaned on your thigh, keeping you open. You closed your eyes, wishing he would ease the heat inside you quickly and leave you alone. Bucky moved his hips and you felt his tip pressing against your thigh. "Answer me.”

“No.” Your voice was hoarse and low, barely a whisper, but your answer was firm. His excitement aligned with you, moving through your damp heat up and down, stealing small moans of pleasure from you.

“No? Are you sure about that?” You could feel the smile in his voice, that mischievous smirk and that cruel glow in his eyes mocking you when he pushed his tip into your opening. You gasped and squeezed the forearm that held your leg on his thigh, taking whatever it found to keep you grounded. "We’ll see about that.” He growled, and his hips pushed against yours.

You screamed when it sank deeper into you, pulling his hips away just to push them back inside, sinking deeper and deeper with each thrust. You were so wet and hot that your body barely put up resistance, even though this was only the second time he touched you like that. Your aunts and cousins had told you how painful intimacy was with their husbands, even after months of doing it again and again, and yet here you were, letting him inside you as a common whore.

Finally, his hips were flush with yours, and you could feel him so deep inside that it almost hurt. You were stretched in a way you never thought was possible, and your breaths came out slow and deep. Bucky released your leg and dropped it on your thigh, trapping him in your heat. Bucky groaned behind you, giving a rough thrust.

“You’re as tight as the first time.” His arm circled your waist and pulled him even closer, stealing a moan from your lips. His lips pressed against your ear and he whispered harshly, “Scream for me, angel.”

He squeezed his arm at your waist and pushed, again and again, without giving you time to adjust to his rhythm. You tried to keep your groans at bay but his hips moved at such a deliciously maddening pace that you couldn’t keep them from escaping your throat.

Your eyes were blurry and tears threatened to fall with every thrust of his hips. You couldn’t see anything beyond your bed, just an ocean of shadows dancing around you, and your grip on his arm tightened. You couldn’t think of anything other than his cock pushing hard and fast inside you, reaching places so deep that you didn’t know you had.

Bucky opened his palm against your belly, increasing the rhythm of his thrusts, “Do you feel that, angel?” A scream got stuck in your throat when his hips changed their angle, pushing deeper inside. You put your hand on his, feeling the force of his thrusts in your stomach. “Do you feel me here?”

You threw your head back on his shoulder, your mouth opening in a silent groan. Bucky bit your neck, his free hand pressing between your tight tight legs until his fingers found your sensitive bundle of nerves and played with it.

“Bucky!” You sank your nails into his arm and your legs shook, tears finally sliding silently down your cheeks. It was too much, too much feelings, too much fear and too much pleasure. Your body was shaking with every thrust of his hips and you no longer had the strength to stop the shameful sounds that came out of your throat.

Your knees trembled when your orgasm seized your body, your sobs and the beating of your heart the only thing you could hear, and everything went dark for what felt like an eternity. Your body felt numb and heavy, as if you had no control over it.

You opened your eyes, your breath coming out in short, fast bursts of your lips, and your body still trembled with the thrusts of your lover. Bucky growled and groaned behind you, not slowing down for a moment. You lay there, too tired to make any movement, and let him use you until his thrusts became erratic and messy.

His hands clenched your hips when his hips sank deeply into you, stopping for a few shaking seconds in which Bucky groaned your name in your neck, pressing you as close to him as he could. You could feel him finishing in you, slowly releasing inside you.

His hands relaxed on your body and his shoulders dropped, your heavy breaths and your beats slowly decreasing.

You lay on your side, waiting for your heart to calm down and for him to rise and leave, but Bucky pressed his forehead to your shoulder, his hands running down your hips and waist. You no longer had the strength to tense under his touch.

“You screamed for me, you moaned for me, you _cried_ for me.” His voice was harsh and dark, so empty of emotion that your stomach found the strength to tense. Bucky rested his hand on your stomach again, his cock shaking inside you, and moved until his face loomed over yours. “What else do you think I can tear away from you?”

Your lips trembled and new tears joined those that dried on your skin, and that cruel and dark smile stretched his lips. He brushed the hair from your face in a soft, sweet gesture, and his touch accelerated your heart in an unpleasant way.

He pressed a kiss on your forehead and stroked your wet cheek, “Sleep now, angel.”

A stabbing headache woke you up. You groaned softly, feeling your throat hoarse and dry as if you had screamed non stop. You pressed your hand against your forehead as if you could stop the pain that way, but you only felt the sweat accumulated on your skin.

You opened your eyes slowly, finding your room illuminated by the few sun rays that could enter through the closed curtains. A vague memory of having seen them open last night came to your mind, and your heart skipped a beat.

Your hands flew to your body, feeling the nightgown fabric with which you had gone to sleep. You sat down with difficulty, feeling nausea stirring your stomach. Your muscles felt sore, and you pressed your hands against your face.

It had happened again. You didn’t understand how, or why, but Bucky had entered your room again. You looked at the tightly closed door and the window with the curtains over it, wondering how the hell he had entered.

The nausea increased with each breath and you felt the tears of helplessness burning in your eyes. Had it been real, or had it just been a dream? You couldn’t remember much apart from his lips on your skin and his thrusts against your hips, and you felt how heat warmed your cheeks.

You stood up slowly, waiting for the headache to decrease. It wasn’t until you were standing that you noticed that something was missing.

With a frown and tears about to spill, you reached under your nightgown between your legs, finding your bare skin. A trembling breath came from your lips and you chocked on the sob that threatened to come out.

You fell on your bed again and sank your face into your hands. A part of you still hoped it was just a dream, that Monroe and Celeste were right, but you weren’t wearing your underwear anymore, and you knew who had it. Your sobs were the only thing that you could hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, what do y’all think of our new characters? Opinions, theories? What about Norine, Steve and Bucky, are we stanning them or nah? What do you think it’s really happening in the manor? Questions, questions, I want you to make them to me, talk to me!
> 
> Also, let’s pretend there are silk panties in the victorian era for the sake of the challenge, shall we?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While trying to go on with your life, the manor takes a tighter hold on your body and soul.

Finally, your mother and brother’s letters arrived one afternoon with a sweaty servant who walked under the sun for a couple of hours just to bring them to you. If standing up didn’t hurt so much, you would have kissed him. **  
**

Sitting in one of the manor’s studios, you read again and again the two letters you had been craving for weeks. There was nothing of importance in them; they talked about how they missed you, that they expected you to have a good time, and that your aunt had turned 70 years old a few days ago. You could cry, but you knew that crying would only prolong your incessant headache.

Your temples throbbed and you put aside the letters, rubbing your forehead and clenching your eyes until the wave of pain passed. Your muscles felt tired, too, as if you had spent the whole day running through the gardens. You could barely keep your eyes open, and even then, you couldn’t sleep.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the sensation of Bucky’s hands running through your skin, his warm lips kissing your neck and your breasts. You had moaned and groaned and trembled under his touch despite how much you hated it, how much you said no. You had washed your body again and again since that night two days ago, but the feeling of being dirty didn’t fade.

“Madam?” A voice startled you.

You opened your eyes suddenly, regretting it when a wave of pain made you close them again. You straightened in your seat and looked towards Celeste. She looked so small surrounded by tall shelves full of books and carrying a tray of tea. You offered her a shaky smile and set the table to put the tray down.

“Hello, Miss Cause.” Even your voice was weak, shaky. You cleared your throat and took the teacup shakingly when Celeste set the tray on the table, her pale cheeks flushing with a soft blush. Her eyes avoided you and her hands trembled when she held them together on her belly.

You took a sip of hot tea, feeling how the liquid calmed the beat in your head, and closed your eyes with a hum. Celeste was already slipping towards the door when you opened your eyes again, a flutter of light hair and white skirts.

“Wait!” You called before she could leave, and her soft footsteps stopped suddenly. Her thin shoulders were tense when she turned to look in your direction, but not to your eyes. Never to your eyes You pressed the cup between your fingers. “Would you like to have tea with me?”

Celeste finally looked into your eyes, her gaze crystalline, that empty look of emotion that you had seen on her face several times already, and her lips tightened. “I’m sorry, ma'am, I have work to do.”

Your shoulders sank and you hoped that your disappointment didn’t show so openly on your face, but by the little grimace that Celeste made, you knew you didn’t do a great job hiding your emotions.

“Oh. Another time, perhaps.” It was all you managed to say, and you watched her hurry to the door, almost hitting herself when it opened in front of her. Celeste stopped, her hands flying to her chest to protect herself, but on the threshold was only Norine, who was startled to find Celeste so close to the door.

"Oh darling! I almost ripped the nose from your face. Forgive me.” Norine hurried into the room, holding her extravagant dress up to avoid dragging it across the floor. Celeste just nodded and hurried out the door, closing it in a fluid and silent movement.

Norine barely noticed, giving you a dazzling smile. "Sunflower.”

“Norine, hello.” A smile tugged at your lips, your eyes threatening to close. You took a sip of your tea to clear your mind, but it only served to numb you more. Norine turned around in her dress, her smile becoming brighter with every second.

“What do you think?”

“It’s very pretty. Is it new?” You lay on your chair, wishing your muscles would relax enough to stop hurting with each movement. Norine bit her lip without losing her smile, nodding.

“Uh-huh. I knew I would have the opportunity to wear it here.” Her delicate hands held the skirts of the dress off the floor as she walked to your table and sat next to you, pouring tea in a cup.

You looked at the dress from top to bottom and raised an eyebrow in her direction, "You won’t be thinking of wearing it in the woods, right?” Norine send you a blank look over her cup in response, and you giggled softly. Strangely, laughing didn’t hurt as much as everything else. “What are you going to use it for then?”

Norine smiled around her tea, her eyes shining as they only did when planning something. “We will throw a dinner.”

“I’m sure we have dinner every day, Norine.”

Norine threw you a napkin and turned her eyes affectionately. “Would you let me finish?” She waited for your giggle to stop before continuing, her sassy smile taking place on her face. “You and I will have a party.”

Your smile faltered, and it took you a couple of seconds to put it back in its place. The tea didn’t do much to relieve your headache anymore. “What do you mean?”

“A dinner, for the nearest neighbors! You have to meet them now, before the wedding, so they won’t take you by surprise the next time you come to visit.” Norine vibrated, her hands moving in excited gestures and spilling a few drops of tea on the table. “I will wear this dress, so I can impress any handsome neighbor of yours.”

You could barely respond to her joke, feeling the nausea begin to rise in your throat. The mere mention of the wedding made you want to burst into tears, and the idea of ever returning to this manor turned your stomach into knots. And now Norine wanted you to make a dinner party?

You shook your head gently, hoping your discomfort wasn’t obvious on your face. “I don’t think I’m able to withstand a party in these conditions.” The porcelain cup made a sound when placed on the table, and you focused on the hot liquid moving inside the cup.

“You will feel better for when the day is near, darling. Meanwhile, I’ll take care of the preparations, and you’ll just have to worry about feeling better.” Norine took your hand, squeezing it affectionately. Why do her fingers look healthier and more alive than yours?

You squeezed your eyes closed when the pain pulsed behind your eyes. “Does Steve even know about this?” His name felt wrong in your mouth, as if it wasn’t your place to call him by his name. The engagement ring still felt heavy on your finger.

“Your fiance is perfectly in agreement with this, I assure you.” A pang of pain other than the physical hit you in the stomach at her words. You wonder when she would have told him of her plans, if she had convinced him with kisses and caresses that you weren’t allowed to give him.

“Alright, okay,…” Your voice was small and trembling again, and you hated every word you said with it. Norine squeezed your hand tighter.

“Do you feel better today?” Her voice was soft, kind, and your heart clenched. Why did she have to betray you? Why did she have to keep treating you with so much love, so much tenderness? Her eyes looked at you with genuine concern, and you found yourself wanting to relieve her.

“Much better than yesterday, at least.” It was half a lie, but also half a truth. You didn’t feel as bad as yesterday, but you were still far from feeling good. You coughed in your hand and Norine stroked your back, bringing your tea closer to you.

“Drink, it will make you feel better.”

You murmured your thanks, and drank the tea to the last drop. The hot liquid went down your throat and eased the pain briefly, but you knew it wouldn’t be long before your head hammered again.

Norine laid your head on her shoulder, gently stroking your hair and humming a song. You felt like a baby girl in her mother’s arms, but when your tired eyes began to close slowly, you left them.

* * *

Your body shakes and jumps when your eyes slam open. Your head is supported by a soft cushion, your arms are folded over your stomach, and the room is dark, but you perceive the shelves full of books from the study in which you fell asleep. You could barely make out the upholstery of the walls and the dark brown floor wood.

You blink to brighten your vision, but the room remains dark, as if all the curtains were closed shut. Your legs felt heavy where they are resting on the divan, and the soft cushions caressed the bare skin of your legs, where your dress had gone up to your calf. Had Norine carried you here by herself?

Your temples were beating and your head was spinning. You groaned under your breath and tried to sit up, but your arms felt weak, as if they were made of smoke.

The squeak of the wood in the floor made you look up into the dim light where you knew there were shelves full of books. Steve leaned against a shelf casually, watching your pathetic attempts to stand up with a cold smile adorning his lips. His blue eyes glowed supernaturally in the darkness of the room.

“I didn’t have the heart to wake you up.” His voice was playful, mocking, as if there was a joke hidden behind his words that you still hadn’t understood. You managed to sit against the back of the divan, slowly regaining your senses. Steve stepped closer to you and you had the sudden urge to get away from him.

You could count on your fingers the times you had seen him in the last three days. As always since his arrival, Bucky was at his side at almost every moment. A small part of you expected Steve to notice the furtive looks and seductive smiles that Bucky sent you every time you saw him, but Steve seemed busier ignoring you than noticing what was happening.

You looked him up and down. It seemed as if he had returned from a walk in the cold winter, wearing that coat over his shoulders and covering his hands with black leather gloves. The image seemed oddly familiar, but you couldn’t place your finger in the memory.

Steve took you out of your thoughts by taking another step in your direction, stopping in front of you. His gloved hand pushed the hair away from your face, looking into your eyes intensely. His eyes are usually cold and empty or intense and penetrating, and having him this close always takes your breath away.

"What time is it?“ The edge of your vision was blurry and you blinked to clear it up; it didn’t work out. Steve cradled your face in his palm, barely paying attention to your question. His freshly shaved face was barely lit when he leaned forward to sit next to you, but you could still see the bright blue of his eyes.

"Steve…” You gasped when his hand slid toward your neck, drawing you closer to him. You pushed against his chest. “Steve, what are you…”

He pressed a kiss on your cheek, his lips brushing your skin, “Don’t think.” His warm breath tickled your cheek, attracting a blush. His hand cradled the back of your head and drew your face to his, brushing your mouths together.

You took a deep breath to speak, to ask him to stop, but the warmth of his hands and the emotion in his eyes silenced any trace of modesty or guilt you might have. He took your lower lip between his teeth and bit gently, tearing a small groan from you.

Your hands flew to his shoulders when he finally pressed his mouth against yours, opening your lips with his tongue and stroking you with it. The hand on your head tightened, pulling your hair a little with the movement, but the pang of pain only made you get closer to him.

You stopped your movements when his other hand squeezed your knee, pulling the skirt of your dress up slowly until it could touch the skin of your thigh. The leather of his glove was cold against your warm skin, and you squeezed his broad shoulders with a gasp when his fingers brushed the inside of your thigh.

“Stop, not here…” You could barely whisper before his fingers touched the sensitive skin between your thighs. A shameful sound came from your lips, getting trapped under his kisses. A smile pressed against your mouth.

You had never gone so far with Steve before, even in those days where he was warmer than cold, and yet, your skin was bristling under his touches as if you had known his hands for years. His fingers sank in your heat and played with your folds, moving up and down until you felt yourself getting wet under his touch.

You groaned his name against his mouth, losing your breath. Why did he want to touch you this way so suddenly? One part of you feels relieved, wanted, but the other part of you burns in a painful and unpleasant way. You bite his lip to avoid moaning when his fingers rub that bundle of nerves at the top of your crotch, and a hoarse laugh vibrates in his chest.

Steve presses one last kiss on your mouth before pulling your hair until you were looking at him. That malicious glow in his eyes, you could swear that you had seen it before, but his hands rubbing your most sensitive place didn’t let you think clearly.

“Lie down, dear.” His open hand pushed your chest until you were on your back on the divan again, with your dress up to your thighs and your legs wide open. You felt your skin warming with shame. This was not the first time a man would see you like that, and the absolute guilt and sorrow watered your eyes.

“Shh, don’t be afraid.” Steve knelt between your legs, sinking his knees into the soft cushions of the divan and delineating your bare legs until he sank his hands under your dress. You bit your lip so as not to sigh.

Was he going to go all the way with you right there, on the divan of a study? You were wondering if he would notice, if he could feel how you weren’t completely his. Your lip trembled at the thought and your skin bristled. You knew Steve had noticed, the way you almost flinch under his touch, but a spark was burning in his eyes when he saw the fear in yours.

His hands clung to the fabric of your dress and raised it until your wet core was in sight, for him and only for him. “Oh, dear.” You could hear the smile in his voice, but you didn’t dare look at him.

Steve doesn’t behave like this; he doesn’t touch you, he doesn’t smile at you, and he definitely doesn’t kiss and caress you. He had Norine for that. So, why start acting so strange now?

Your thoughts were interrupted when something warm and wet touched the inside of your thigh, and you jumped at the strange sensation. Steve laughed against your skin, nibbling at your tender flesh gently. You could barely see the top of his head, his face hidden by your thighs and your dress. His face was so close, you could feel his breath in your core.

You bit your lip to avoid moaning, and you refused to look at him when his lips kissed your folds. You closed your eyes and squeezed the divan cushions when his tongue hit your clit, feeling like a pang of pleasure ran down to your toes.

“Oh, God.” You said, out of breath, and you could hardly concentrate on anything other than his mouth when he started eating you out. Norine had talked about this, but you never allowed yourself to imagine what it would feel like if it was really done to you, and now you couldn’t help but writhe with pleasure and shame.

Steve grunted between your legs, his head moving from side to side to up and down, as if he wanted to reach every inch of skin with his tongue. Waves of pleasure stole your breath and your heart was pounding in your chest. Your hands flew to sink into his short blond hair when he sucked your bundle of nerves into his mouth, and this time you couldn’t stop the moan that came out of your mouth.

Steve laughed, his shoulders shaking, perhaps out of mockery or effort, but you pushed his face deeper between your hips, refusing to let him go.

It felt good to be like this with him. It should always be this way; your fiance kneeling in front of you, giving you love in the way that only he can give you, and you enjoying it, encouraging him to give you more. It felt right, as if you were made to be there.

His beard rubbed your thighs as he moved, hurting your sensitive skin. A vague memory of seeing him clean shaved just a few minutes ago appeared in your mind, but then he clenched your thighs with his hands and opened them more, exposing more of you to him.

With one hand in his hair and another covering your mouth, you closed your eyes and bit into your fist when his tongue sank into your opening. You didn’t even know that something like that could be done. You wish your family’s letters weren’t so close to you right now. Will you always feel this ashamed when you are intimate with him? Or is it just the idea of your lost innocence before your wedding that worries you?

A little scream came out of your throat when his mouth sucked your lips hard. Steve laughed again, raising his head slightly, brushing his beard-covered cheek against your thighs. “Oh, my angel, you make the most delicious sounds.”

Your shoulders tensed and your eyes flew open. Your hand was sunk in soft strands of brown hair and the familiar glow in his gaze paralyzed you. Bucky outlined your cunt with his tongue without separating his eyes from yours, and a gasp escaped from between your lips.

“No…” You could barely whisper, trying to get up and take his mouth away from you. But Bucky held on to your thighs and pulled you back to the divan, pressing a kiss on the top of your crotch.

“Don’t run away from me now, love.” He murmured, his blue eyes shining with that familiar mischief and evil. You pulled his hair and pushed your hips, but that only served to encourage him more, and his mouth rubbed and sucked and licked your cunt until your legs tensed around his head and your vision clouded.

You screamed and arched when your orgasm seized you, your legs shaking and his tongue still licking every drop of pleasure you could give it. The shadows of the ceiling seemed to move, as if dancing. Your sounds were their music.

Bucky pressed a last kiss between your thighs before sitting on his knees and lowering your dress to cover your wet skin. Your thighs burned from the brush of his beard and your cheeks were hot with shame. Bucky just smiled, his lips shining with your excitement. Your knees were shaking when you pulled them to your chest and lay on your side, refusing to look at him.

Bucky gently stroked your back, as if he was comforting you, but you had seen that look in his eyes and you would never forget it again.

“You don’t have to fear pleasure, Y/N.” His voice was calm, serene, as if he hadn’t lost his breath. His hands rubbed the tension of your back carefully, but the glow of his gaze burned under your closed eyelids. “It’s the only thing we can feel truly proud of. Sin and depravity, it is useless to flee from them.”

“I don’t want to be your sinner.” You hissed into the darkness, convinced that he was part of it, just a shadow in the room. You heard his laugh, mocking and malicious. He acted as if he knew you and you weren’t sure he had reasons to do so. The room was silent then, and although you felt him as clear as the day behind you, you couldn’t hear his breathing.

His fingers sank into your tangled and sweaty hair and rubbed your skin gently. It was strange; you could feel the skin of his fingers even with those gloves on. Your eyes began to close, and you realized, for the first time, that your head didn’t hurt and that there was no light coming through the windows.

You opened your eyes slowly, encountering an enlightened study. You sat hurriedly, regretting immediately when you feel the headache coming back with full force, and you had to close your eyes until your vision cleared enough to see.

Your dress was in place, and the clock that hung over the fireplace to your left said it had only been an hour since you fell asleep. You frowned and looked at the windows with the curtains wide open, the afternoon sun spilling into the room.

You stood up and grimaced when your thighs brushed as you walked. You stopped at the table where you had read your family’s letters and drank tea with Norine, trying to ignore the moisture between your legs and the evidence that whatever happened a few minutes ago, had left its mark on you.

* * *

You took your time to answer in detail the letters to your family, wondering when you would receive answers. You comforted yourself by saying there were only a couple more weeks before returning to New York. A part of you was terrified to return; you didn’t know if you were sure to continue with the engagement after all that had happened, and facing your family was scary in its own way.

You pushed the thought away. There would be time to think about that later. Instead, you sent the letters to the town with a servant and you started looking for Norine. You still weren’t sure how she had managed to take you from a chair to the divan, but you had decided not to go around the matter too much. Your head hurt enough.

You turned back and forth around the mansion for a while. A part of you hoped to meet Celeste again, hoping to talk to her a little more. She, meanwhile, seemed to be avoiding you. You ignored the pang of pain that thought caused you, and tried to convince you that it was because she was busy and not because she didn’t want to talk to you at all.

Your steps became slower and softer as the minutes passed and you didn’t find any signs of Norine. You wrapped your arms around you when you passed a strangely cold hallway, as if it were at a different temperature than the rest of the house.

Looking at the paintings that hung on the walls and strolling through the dark manor, you couldn’t help feeling more alone than ever. You refused to cry, straightening and following your path, even though each step felt closer to a precipice than the previous one.

The sound of your footsteps was your only company, the only thing that distracted you from the darkness that lurked in the halls. You were trying to stay close to the windows, having the silly idea that being near the light the shadows couldn’t catch you.

A second pair of footsteps echoed in the silent manor, and you turned around just to find a dark hallway. You frowned, swearing that you had heard someone come after you. A tingle went up your back, that strange feeling of being watched invading you. The shadows seemed to move in the corner of your vision.

You turned your back to the hall again and kept walking, wanting to feel lonely again. Now you could only think of that pair of footsteps that followed yours, but every time you turned around, there was no one there. Your heart was beginning to pound in your chest, and you almost screamed in relief when you turned a corner and found a group of maids cleaning. At least, now you were sure of having company.

You left the maids with reluctance, willing to find Norine, but the feeling of being observed disappeared slowly and you no longer heard any steps other than yours. Even so, you avoided the darkest halls and memorized the way back to the nearest window.

A voice rang out in the distance, and your heart jumped. You would recognize that singing laugh wherever. You still didn’t understand why being with Norine excited you so much, knowing what you knew, but your poor heart couldn’t hate so easily, no matter how much you wanted to.

You hurried down the hall, trying to forget your silly paranoia, until you reached a large wooden door ajar, leaning forward to see better. Your heart rose to your throat.

It was a small living room, one of the many in the mansion, with bookshelves wrapping the room and several armchairs surrounding a small coffee table where a tea tray would rest.

Norine laughed the way only she could do, Steve’s hands stroking her thigh under her dress. She circled his neck with her arms, leaning forward to whisper something in his ear. Steve barely reacted, but whispered something in response that made Norine smile more brightly you’ve ever seen her smile before.

You felt as if a knife had sunk deep in your chest, and your breathing stopped. Norine pressed a kiss to Steve’s lips, and he answered openly.

You wanted to look away, but you were hypnotized by the sight. Your heart was beating too hard and your stomach was tightening more every second, but you bit your lip to avoid crying. You felt like that is the only thing you have done for weeks. You tore your gaze away when Steve finished the kiss, his lips glowing and his eyes cold when he looked up to speak to someone you couldn’t see from your spot in the door.

Bucky stepped forward, entering your line of sight. Steve stroked Norine’s reddish hair absentmindedly, as a lover does with his beloved, and Bucky eyed the movement closely. He watched them with attentive eyes, looking at every detail of the scene. You wondered what he was thinking, if he disapproved of your fiance’s attitude and if he simply didn’t care. Knowing him, it would amuse him.

“You can have her, if you want.” Steve pointed to Norine with his chin, bouncing her on his legs. Norine blushed, but that didn’t stop her from giving Bucky her best smile. Her lips trembled and her eyes seemed away when Bucky handed it back, but his eyes didn’t shine the way they did when he looked at you.

Suddenly, his eyes lifted and fixed directly on you, as if he had heard your thoughts. You gasped softly, unsure how much he could see, but if he noticed the tears in your eyes, he gave you no indication of knowing. Instead, his attention focused on his best friend again, his smile shining dangerously.

“Ah, Steve, I thought we had stopped sharing when you found yourself… posessive.” Steve ignored Norine’s kisses in favor of looking directly at his friend. A small smile swayed on his lips, but it was just as cold and stoic as ever, without warmth in it.

“There is only someone who I don’t want to share. She is off limits.” There was an obvious threat in his words, despite the neutrality in which he said them. Bucky smiled more openly, the blue in his eyes acquiring that evil glow to which you were already accustomed.

“What a shame, then. The beautiful Y/N looks like delight.” Bucky put his gloved hands in front of him in a harmless gesture, but you could feel the tension in the air at his words. Norine stopped, her eyes losing focus and her jaw clenching at the mention of your name. Your stomach clenched.

Steve, on the other hand, sharpened his smile in a way that made your hair stand on end. “And she’s mine to own, do you understand?”

There was a heavy silence where none of you dared to move or say anything, fearing breaking the delicate peace in the room. Bucky’s fists clenched in front of him, but he just nodded and smiled brightly, like a wolf about to devour his prey.

“Of course, my friend. I would never do anything to betray your trust.”

Norine stood up from Steve’s lap, with no color on her face and with a tormented look. “I better go with Y/N. She must have already woken up from her nap and must be looking for me.”

You didn’t stay to listen to the responses of your fiance and your lover. You turned around and ran to get away from that room as much as you could, drying the treacherous tears that slid down your cheeks. Alone, indeed.

* * *

Your headache was almost completely gone for dinner. You no longer had an excuse to miss it.

You had to sit there and smile at every joke and conversation as if your heart hasn’t been stabbed just that afternoon. Bucky was strangely silent, his gaze bouncing between you, Norine and Steve curiously. There wasn’t that glow of malice or mockery in his eyes, just a calm chill that made your hair stand on end. You had the terrifying feeling that he was planning something.

Norine, as always, ignited the conversation and kept it afloat throughout dinner, but this time the dinner was calm, quiet. You looked at her with her elegant dress and glamorous hair, smiling at you as if she had never done anything against you. You remembered the pain in her eyes and the tension in her jaw this afternoon, when Bucky and Steve started talking about you in front of her.

I hope it hurts, you surprised yourself thinking. You felt bad immediately, and forced yourself to smile until the plates were lifted.

You barely murmured your good night before running upstairs where a hot bath was waiting for you. You had spent more time in the tub these last days than usual. Maybe it was because you wanted to wash any trace of impurity from you.

The bathroom closest to your room was white with a faded tub, no windows and a closet for towels and soaps. Several candles lit the gloomy room and chased away the shadows of the night.

The water was hot when you plunged into it, leaning on the porcelain and letting out a sigh. Your headache was gone but you still felt the slightest tiredness in your muscles. Your eyes fluttered closed when you allowed yourself to relax in the water and you had to be careful not to dive in completely.

Sleepiness pulled your body to the bed, but the idea of going to sleep in your dark and lonely room squeezed your stomach, so you sank deeper into the bubbles and closed your eyes once more.

You jumped in surprise when the door opened with a soft squeak, candlelight illuminating the silent hallway. Steve was standing in the doorway, the light outlining his tall, muscular figure, and you felt your skin warming under his intense gaze. You remembered your dream this afternoon, how Steve had become Bucky in a heartbeat, and your heart sped up. Is this a dream too?

His cold blue eyes drank from the sight of your wet skin, stepping into the room. “I didn’t know you were here.” His voice was dry and hoarse, but you could hear an emotion barely contained beneath it. “I was thinking of taking a bath myself.”

It was then that you saw the towel hanging on his shoulder and his unbuttoned shirt, exposing his bare chest. You sank a little deeper into the tub, hoping the water and bubbles hid your body from his naked gaze.

“I’ll be done in a second, you can wait outside.” Your voice was small, helpless, but Steve didn’t back away. Instead, he walked until he stopped in front of you, his heavy footsteps sounding on the wooden floor. Your eyes fixed on his legs, refusing to bend your neck to look him in the eyes.

His fingers brushed a strand of wet hair from your face, gently stroking your skin. You closed your eyes, leaning towards his bare touch, skin bare without a leather glove interfering with the path. Your stomach twisted at the thought of those same hands touching Norine just that afternoon, and you jerked away.

“You shouldn’t be here.” You hugged your legs against your chest, resting your chin on your knees and facing away from him. Steve sighed, his fingers fiddling with your hair absently, and you felt how the tub moved when he sat on the edge of it.

“Look at me, Y/N.” His voice was firm, leaving no room for objections, and you found yourself obeying him, always afraid to disappoint him. Even so, your eyes watered when you finally looked up.

He was still serious, stoic, with his lips pressed in a thin line and his eyes showing no emotion. His hand moved from your hair to your face, cradling your cheek in his hand. His skin was rough against yours, but you allowed yourself to lean on it, even if it were only for this time. Steve rubbed his thumb on your skin, his eyes following the movement of your chest when breathing.

“I have been a terrible fiance.” He murmured the words but you heard them as clear as the day. The steam was fading and the bubbles exploded one by one, but you no longer paid attention to that. Your breath stuck in your chest, waiting for him to go on.

“I know that I have not been the most attentive in recent months, both here and back at home. You don’t deserve to be treated like this.” His eyes were bright, as if he were in a trance, the blue of his eyes protruding under the candlelight. You squeezed your arms around your legs with more force. “And with Bucky and Norine here, we haven’t been alone for a while.”

The mention of your guests stirred your stomach and you bit your tongue to avoid replicating. You knew that if he really wanted to, he would have found time for you, in the same way he does for Norine. A blaze of jealousy burned in your chest, but you didn’t want to be that woman. You didn’t want to be the wife who fought for the nonexistent affections of her unfaithful husband.

Even so, you nodded, your lower lip trembling. Steve followed the movement, his face blank. You would be able to slap him just now in order to get a reaction from him, even anger. Anything than this.

His hand stroked your face gently, and for a second, you thought you saw something shine in his gaze, but it was gone before you could decipher it. “Would you be able to forgive me?”

You took a deep breath, “For ignoring me all these months?”

“Yes.” He grimaced, as if saying it so directly hurt. At least that had erased that blank expression from his face.

You stared at him then. You must look ridiculous, soaked from head to toe and hugging your legs like a little girl hugging her favorite doll. You nodded slowly, your lips parted.

“Yes, I forgive you.” You whispered, feeling like a knife squirmed in your gut. You could forgive him for ignoring you all that time, you really could, but you kept thinking about Norine and the way her lips looked against his. You could never forget nor forgive that. But Steve was counting on you never knowing about it, so why apologize for something you don’t even know about?

If your forgiveness relieved him, he didn’t show it. Instead, his hand stroked your face once more before sliding his hand down your neck. Your heart skipped a beat, remembering how he had done that same thing in the afternoon, in the study. His hands felt good on you. Would it be so bad to close your eyes and pretend everything was fine? That there was no bitter secrets building a barrier between you two?

Your eyes widened when his hand sank underwater, his fingers following your skin. His eyes locked on yours when his hand closed around your breast, his fingers brushing your nipple gently. A breath got stuck in your throat.

“Steve…” You breathed, squeezing the edge of the tub to keep you on earth. His gaze was firm, penetrating, as if he challenged you to look away. You bit your lip to stop a moan when his fingers circled your nipple, squeezing gently. You rubbed your thighs together and you regretted almost immediately when his attention focused on your legs.

His eyes returned to yours, the slightest of smiles pulling his lips, and he turned his hands away from you. You sighed, if out of relief or disappointment you weren’t sure, but soon Steve was kneeling by the side of the tub, sinking his hand into your damp hair and clenching his fist. You moaned softly, letting him guide your mouth into his in a messy, wet kiss.

You groaned in his mouth, letting his tongue explore your insides without objection, pushing bad memories deep into your mind. Steve bit your lip, pulling it and sucking it into his mouth. The heat of his kiss warmed your skin and your nipples hardened on the surface of the now warm water.

Kissing Steve always made you dizzy, but this kiss left you breathless. You found yourself looking for similarities with Bucky, looking for that familiar glow in his eyes, but Steve’s desire and frenzy were different from those of his best friend. Bucky looked at you like a predator at his prey, eager to start a chase. Steve looked at you like a hungry man who couldn’t wait to eat you raw.

Both looks put your hair on end and warmed your skin at the same time, your treacherous body giving in to their caresses and touches like a dog to its master. You hated feeling so helpless, so weak from the power they had in you, but just now you could just sit back and take what they offered you.

Steve growled in your mouth when your hands slid under his unbuttoned shirt, feeling his warm, soft skin under your palms. You could feel what you supposed were scars all over his torso, and it seemed that Steve knew you were going to ask him about them because he immediately pressed between your knees to open them.

You closed your legs instinctively, feeling suddenly shy. Even with the water and bubbles covering you, you weren’t sure you’re ready for Steve to see you so vulnerable. A stab of guilt hit you at the thought of Bucky and his fingers sinking into you, muttering how wet and tight you were for him.

Steve pressed a kiss on your neck and then another on your cheek, his hand pushing your thighs apart again. You felt your skin flushed with steam and shame, dropping your legs open to the sides of the tub. Steve looked at the point between your thighs as if he could see through the water and bubbles, and you sank your face into his chest so you didn’t have to see his expression.

He pressed a kiss on your temple, the hand in your hair clenching, but he didn’t force you to look at him again. His other hand slid between your breasts and down your stomach, going down and down and down until the tips of his fingers pressed your upper lips. You groaned in his chest, running your hands through his skin impatiently.

“Don’t be like that now, dear.” His firm voice put a stop to your groans, and his fingers moved to your clit with surprising speed. You stifled a scream in his chest when his fingers firmly rubbed your bundle of nerves, your legs shaking against the walls of the tub. Steve pressed his face into your hair, but you knew his eyes were fixed on his own hand between your legs.

“Steve!” You moaned, your wet lips kissing his bare chest when his movements accelerated. You dared to open your eyes but the hand in your hair prevented you from moving much, so you settled for watching as his chest rose and fell with faster breaths. Your eyes fixed on the waist of his pants and you looked away quickly, avoiding looking at the bulge that pressed against the fabric.

“Do you want to come, my dear?” There was a desperate note in his hoarse voice, as if he wanted you to say yes, and you couldn’t have denied him his wish even if you wanted to.

“Yes, yes! Please.” You breathed in his chest, pressing hot, wet kisses against his skin. Steve raised his palm and lowered it on your warm skin, the soft blow sending a pang of pleasure and slight pain through your body.

His chest vibrated with a chuckle, and you clenched your eyes to ward off memories of that afternoon in the studio. Your legs were shaking and your clit pulsed. You pushed your hips against his hand and sank your nails into his skin. "Please, Steve, let me come.”

He pulled your hair until you looked directly into his deep blue eyes, an almost animal glow brightening the color in the dark, and, looking directly into you, he sank a finger into your heat. Your mouth opened in a surprised gasp, waiting for the pain that didn’t come.

Steve looked into your eyes, searching for something. His gaze dropped to your heat and slowly turned back to you, a glow of recognition appearing in his eyes. His jaw clenched and his grip on your hair became stronger, tearing a whine of pain out of you.

His finger slowly slid out of you only to return with two others accompanying it, sinking into your warm insides. He started a fast and strong rhythm, with his fingers bending and curving towards spots that made your toes curl.

“Are you mine, dear?” He growled against your mouth, pushing you close. You opened your mouth, trying to breathe and respond at the same time, but it seems that Steve didn’t want a real answer.

You want to say no, you want to tell him the truth and for him to forgive you and force Bucky to get away from you, but you weren’t sure who he would prefer between you two. So you squeezed around his fingers and sank your nails so deeply into his skin that you were sure it would draw blood.

“Yes, yes, Steve. I am yours.” The lie tasted bittersweet on your lips but it slipped so easily, as if you had been rehearsing it for days. Steve’s eyes glowed, the corner of his mouth rising in a dark, grim smile.

“Liar.”

Your mouth opened, but only a moan came out when his fingers sank deeper inside you, curving at a sensitive point that made you see stars. “Steve!” You squeezed your eyes closed and held on to his torso, burying your face in his chest.

Your body was still shaking and your vision had not yet cleared when his fingers slipped out of you and his palm lowered against your core strongly. You jumped out of reach to the dull pain, pushing his chest. “What are you…?”

A shout came out of your throat when his hand reconnected with your hot, moist flesh. You cried for him to stop, but his hand came down again against you, and again and again, splashing water out of the tub. The painful blows woke your desire again and, although you pushed and begged him to stop, Steve managed to tear another orgasm out of you with his relentless slaps. You felt mortified.

Your breathing was unstable, deep, and your legs felt heavy and useless. You dropped against his chest, your hands sliding down his torso until they fell on the edge of the tub. Steve pulled your hair sharply, ignoring your groan of pain and forcing you to look him in the eyes.

“Don’t lie to me again, or I won’t be responsible for what I do with you then.” There was no emotion in his eyes or in his voice, but just like when he had warned Bucky that you were his alone, there was a threat sleeping under his words, and you weren’t stupid enough to try to ignore it.

You had barely finished murmuring your tearful apologies when he stood up, letting go of your hair and pulling away from the tub. Your head fell forward when released so abruptly and you almost hit yourself with the edge of the tub, but your attention was on Steve, who palmed his crotch and shot you one last look over his shoulder before leaving the bathroom as if nothing had happened .

Your hands were shaking and your throat was closing while you dried, leaving the bathroom and hoping a maid will empty the tub and blow out the candles soon. You dressed without thinking, your mind blank, combing your hair absentmindedly in front of your dressing table in your room. Candlelight illuminated your bed as if it encouraged you to lie in it, but the idea of going to sleep turned your stomach into knots.

You were exhausted in every way. Your eyes closed on their own and your muscles screamed at you for relief, but a look at the closed window and the wooden door told you that you would not find sleep that night.

You set the comb aside, being careful not to tear down the other things on your dressing table. Your eyes fixed on your open jewelry box, your engagement ring shining in the dark. Your throat clenched and you closed the jeweler with a dry knock. Steve knew about you and Bucky, you were sure of it, and yet he hadn’t done anything about it other than touching you and talking to you like you were some other woman he had his affairs with.

Did he treat Norine the same way? You looked at your bed in the gloom, contemplating the idea of simply lying down and waiting for the best. You clenched your fists and headed for the door, hurrying out into the hall. The wooden floor was cold against your bare feet as you hurried down the corridor.

Norine opened the door just a few moments after you knocked, her hair disheveled and her eyes narrowed in sleep. You’re surprised Steve didn’t spend the night with her after leaving you in the bathroom. “Y/N? Are you okay?”

You wanted to yell at her that no, that your world was getting on turning upside down and that you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. You wanted to shake her and yell at her for what she was doing to you, for betraying you just when you felt you couldn’t trust anyone. You wanted to throw yourself into her arms and let her comfort you because by this point you’re starting to believe you are losing your mind.

Your throat closes with all the words waiting to burst out of you, but instead you just shake your head slightly, surrounding yourself with your arms.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Your whisper was barely audible in the silent hall, but Norine’s gaze softens in a way that breaks your heart. Her mouth curves into a sleepy smile and wraps her arm over your shoulders, pulling you into her room.

“Of course you can, sunflower.” Her voice was sweet, friendly, and her hand was rubbing your shoulder gently, as if feeling your tension. She took you to her bed and you were relieved to cover yourself with her thick blankets and sheets, resting your head on her pillows, her scent filling your senses. Norine slid in front of you on her side of the bed, her smile warm and loving.

“Sleep well, sunflower.” She whispered in the dark, taking your hand in hers. The heat of her skin sent a shiver down your back. You couldn’t help moving closer to her until her arms surrounded you and your head was resting on her chest, her hands caressing your hair.

“Sleep well, Norine.” You murmured, and you allowed yourself to be proud to keep the tears at bay, if only for this time.

* * *

There were shadows around you, like black smoke that surrounded you from all directions. You turned around, looking for any ray of light in the distance, but your gaze was only meet with absolute darkness.

Your skin bristled with chills, your fingers numb from the penetrating cold. The ground felt wet under your bare feet and splashed black liquid when you ran through the gloom, with your arms extended in front of you. The thin fabric of your nightgown was torn on your shoulder, on your thigh, on your stomach.

Your feet sank on the cold and wet ground and you stumbled, falling flat on your face. A dull ache spread through your body, your nose and chin pulsing. A cry tore your throat in two, and you struggled to stand up, slipping on the wet ground and falling again and again.

You screamed until your throat burned and you slowly crawled on the floor, your hands looking for something to hold on to. You didn’t hear anything apart from the beating of your heart, your broken sobs and the whisper of the wind, like that of an approaching storm.

Your fists clenched on the wet ground and you hit your face with them, hoping that the pain would make you wake up, because you had to be asleep. This had to be a nightmare. But you didn’t wake up, not even when you felt blood running down your nose and your lip beated painfully.

Something pressed on your calf, closing tightly around your flesh. Your eyes sought the owner of the force but you could see nothing but darkness. The pressure was familiar; four fingers and one thumb, pulling you back. You screamed and tried to free yourself, kicking in the dark and scratching the invisible force that pulled you deeper into the earth.

Your body sank in the wet ground until your hips were submerged in the ground, the pressure on your leg pulling harder. You screamed for help, drowning in your own tears and pulling the earth in front of you to hold you on the surface. Your muscles ached and your throat burned but you kept fighting, refusing to be completely submerged.

But the shadows were too strong and soon your chin was brushed on the ground, your arms trapped underground. You couldn’t even have one last trace of light before being buried alive because the only thing around you was darkness.

Your eyes flew open and you took a deep breath, coughing in your hand as if you were going to spit a lung. Norine’s room was dark but not submerged in the shadows, your eyes being able to distinguish the bed under your body and the walls surrounding you.

Norine sat next to you, rubbing your back as you coughed harder and harder, as if something was stuck in your throat. You couldn’t stop feeling the earth surrounding you as you sank deeper and deeper into it, trapping you in its claws and taking away your breath.

“Y/N! Breathe, sunflower, breathe with me.” Norine murmured behind you, stroking your back and trying to hide the worry in her voice. Your eyes drank from the shadows in the room, looking for that pair of blue eyes that tormented you even in your dreams.

But the shadows were the same as always, and that did nothing to relieve you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, two sex scenes in one chapter? Nice. This chapter is shorter than the other ones, I know, but I promise big things are coming with this fic.
> 
> So, Steve knows. What do you think it’s gonna happen next? What do y’all think of Norine? Does she feel bad for being a shitty friend or she just doesn’t give a fuck? Do you think there’s something more going on with her and Steve? Talk to me!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After finally visiting the forest and the lake, your fear and desesperation drive you to seek help from the people you aren’t yet sure to trust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again, four months later with a shitty update! :D In my defense, I no longer have a laptop of my own so writing has been kind of tricky lately, but hey, I finished this!
> 
> Eternal thanks to @its–fandom–darling for being my beta again. I don’t know what I would do without you <3

The forest became thicker with every step you took, your breath getting stuck in your throat with every breath. The scent of wild flowers and the sound of your feet crushing wet branches invaded your senses. In each direction you looked, you could only see trees taller than a building and long, thick branches like skeletal fingers stretching to scratch your skin.

 _"Oh!"_ Norine shouted, and you turned to see her slipping with the wet mud and falling on her butt, almost bouncing. You couldn't stop the laugh that escaped your lips, and Norine called you with her arms. Her gestures were serious, but a smile tugged at her lips. “Well, don't just stay there. Come help me, woman!”

Trying to avoid falling with her, you took her outstretched hands and pushed her to her feet. You growled when your skirt became entangled with a branch, and you cursed yourself for not following Norine's example and putting on the only pair of pants you have.

You see her shake her butt with a mocking smile. "You have the grace of a swan, my dear."

Norine narrows her eyes in your direction, "I would like to see you roll through all this mud, to see if you would still have that smile on your face." She gives you a little push on the shoulder, making you stagger. You cling to her shoulders, threatening to take her with you to the ground.

"Stop there!" Her arms surround your waist and straighten you, keeping you standing, and a laugh explodes in her throat. Her laugh is contagious, and soon you end up surrounding her with your arms and laughing like a schoolgirl too, moving from side to side in a slow and messy waltz.

You take a deep breath, forgetting the heaviness of your limbs and the burning behind your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the scent of her hair and the distant sound of birds singing. Your heart bounces in slow and calm beats, feeling calm for the first time in all morning, if only for a few seconds.

"If the ladies finished playing, we could go on." A playful voice speaks behind you.

The smile slips from your face, pulling away from Norine slowly. Norine doesn't let go of your waist, her brow frowning at your sudden coldness, but she rushes to put on her own facade and shrugs her shoulders in the direction of Bucky with a smile that matches his. "You are the guide, James, show us the way."

Bucky smiles more broadly, his eyes sliding on you for only a second before stepping back into the forest. Steve is just a few steps behind him, his eyes fixed on the lush forest and nothing else. You push Norine in Bucky’s direction, keeping your head down and holding on to her hand.

Finally, Steve had yielded to the pleas and teasing of Norine and Bucky and had agreed to take you to the lake, crossing the forest along the way. The forest seemed even bigger being inside it than it was seen outside, and the few glimpses of the blue sky you could see between the tall branches of the trees did nothing to comfort your growing anxiety.

Steve had barely spoken to you since that night in the bathroom a couple of days ago, and your heart sank into your stomach every time your eyes met his and you found yourself with a cold wall of ice, with no emotion swimming in them. You were surprised that he even joined this expedition, but you supposed he didn't want to leave you alone with Bucky either.

As if he could hear your thoughts, Bucky looked over his shoulder in your direction, his broken lip curving in the smallest of smiles. You had to blink several times when you saw him the morning after you met Steve in the bathroom. It was not the first time you saw his darkened eyes and blood stained lips, but that dreadful vision used to last only a few terrifying seconds before it disappeared without a trace.

This time, however, no one could hide the dark bruise on his cheekbone and the stinging wound on his lower lip. Norine gasped with surprise when she saw him, hurrying to his side to assist him. Bucky had shaken his head and laughed, his shoulders shaking when he told the story of how he had fallen out of bed in the middle of the night.

Norine had preferred to believe that lie to say out loud what you also knew; the way Steve had rubbed his knuckles distractedly and a sharp smile had pulled the corner of his mouth, a terrifying glow appearing in his eyes.

Norine hadn't asked, and neither had you, but you knew what was the reason behind that fight. Your cheeks were still warming when you remembered the way Bucky had looked at you over his cup that morning, his gaze telling you everything you had to know.

_He did this for you. I did this for you._

You blinked to scare the memories, focusing on not tripping or slipping on the damp and deceptive forest ground. Norine's fingers entwine with yours and pull you in the right direction every time you feel you are about to fall.

Her eyes bounce between Bucky and Steve's back. Her voice was just a whisper, "Do you have any idea what is happening between those two?" _And does it have anything to do with you?_ You could hear the question she hadn't asked, but you decided to ignore it, keeping your voice low so that only she and the wind could hear you.

"I don't know, but it seems they have been tense for a while now." It was only half a lie, and you hoped that, for once, Norine wouldn't realize it. She nibbled her lip, mulling over your answer for a few seconds before shrugging.

"Men." She rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, pushing your hip with her, and with that she managed to lift a load off your shoulders. You opened your mouth to respond when an dull sound cut the air, silencing your conversation. Your shoulders tensed again and your eyes searched for the source of the sound.

"What was that?" You hated the way your voice trembled, fearing that, once again, you were imagining things.

You could not close an eye on the last nights, scared of the smiling shadows in your room. Norine comforted you when you woke up with a racing heart and a scream stuck in your throat, but not even daylight could scare away the nerves that being inside that house caused you.

Steve looked behind him for a second, his posture relaxed, "Monroe."

His voice startled you, but the name of the lumberjack and hunter of the manor made you shiver. You still hadn't forgotten the sensation of his eyes following every movement of your body, his lips muttering horror stories and his gaze swinging on the edge of madness. The idea that this man was out there in the forest, alone and with an ax put your hair on end.

The sound of the ax cutting the wood traveled through the wind again, and Bucky continued on his way, his jaw tensing almost imperceptibly. “Let the man work. We are close to the lake.”

You remembered the tension in his eyes that day you asked about Monroe in the gardens, the way in which, for the first time since you met him, something you said made _him_ feel uncomfortable. Your eyes moved in the direction of the sound of the ax, wondering how far he would be, and if he would think to use his tool against you.

Norine hastened her steps, pulling you with her until she was almost on a par with Bucky, getting you out of your morbid thoughts. "How is it that none of you have ever been lost in this maze of trees, um?" 

Bucky let out a hoarse laugh between his teeth, pulling a branch off the road and holding it for you and Norine to pass, becoming his relaxed and playful self again.

“Steve and I have spent enough time in this forest to know how to get in and out without any problem. Call it survival instinct, if you will.” Was his answer, his heavy boots sinking into the mud with each step.

"What happens if you can't find your way out before nightfall?" You found yourself asking, feeling the weight of the trees closing over your head, the feeling too familiar to your liking. Steve clicked his tongue behind you, looking at you intensely before looking away and walking in front of you.

“You don't have to fear for that, dear. Nothing is going to happen to you with us here.” His words cut inside your chest like a knife, and Bucky's eyes glowed familiarly. Norine frowned, ignorant of the subtle threat in your fiance's voice.

"Now you scared me." She pushed your shoulder with her, trying to relieve your constantly changing mood, but your blood had frozen in your veins, and you couldn't find the courage to smile back.

Bucky looked at you sideways, surely drinking from your anxiety like a nectar. “There are a few cabins throughout the forest, but most are abandoned. We used to use them for camping when we were younger. They are not the kind of place where a lady like you should spend the night.”

Steve sent Bucky a cold look, as if he had said something he shouldn't. You looked around the infinite sea of trees and plants in all directions. You could almost imagine a cabin emerging from the earth, its walls and doors made of branches still attached to its trees, the roof covered with leaves and weeds. It was a chilling vision, but you found yourself yearning for the cold of the floor of one of those cabins over the suffocating heat inside the mansion.

A gigantic tree stood in front of you, and you could not help stopping and looking at its height, bending your neck to see its crown, but it was too tall for you to see it from below. Norine pulled your sleeve, watching you look at the tree with an affectionate smile. She and you used to do this in the forest near your aunt's country house, but you had never found trees as tall as these.

You wanted to feel excited, but the stress on your stomach did not allow you to think of anything but the heavy anxiety of being in constant danger. You were looking for comfort in Norine's soft and friendly touch, but even looking into her eyes felt wrong, too many secrets between you to be able to fully trust her.

Bucky and Steve advanced, your fiance looking over his shoulder in your direction. His eyes and expression were illegible, but you could feel the impatience radiating from his body. You swallowed and looked away sharply, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks.

Norine frowned, her gaze burning holes in Steve's back. “He shouldn't treat you like this. He is behaving like a child.” There was poison in her voice, the kind of bitterness that you didn't often hear in her.

You think about how she is the last person who could comment on your relationship with Steve, but the way she squeezed your hand harder than before made you stop. Your lip trembled, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, and you looked away, deciding to keep your mouth shut once again.

Bucky stepped around a tree, disappearing from your sight. His voice echoed in the forest. "Ah, finally." You could hear the smile in his words, and immediately knew that you had reached the lake.

Norine lit up, smiling at you broadly and the tension slowly sliding out of her eyes. Her hand pulled you in the direction of Bucky's voice, Steve following your steps behind you. You gasped at the sudden change of environment, the trees stopping abruptly a few meters ahead and opening in a clearing of dark grass.

The lake was dark and gloomy, much like the wooden guardian that surrounded it in all directions. It stretched for half a kilometer and the trees closest to its edges curved over it, branches and leaves slowly falling over the water. The darkness seemed to cover the water like a tablecloth, but you could barely see much of it through the thick fog that floated over it.

If you thought the forest was suffocating, the lake took your breath away. The idea of putting a foot in those dark waters caused you to shiver, images of whatever was hiding under that blanket of darkness burning behind your eyes.

Norine didn't seem very affected by the landscape, however, and she let go of your hand in favor of approaching the lake quickly, kneeling on the edge of the lawn and resting one hand on a rock sticking out of the ground and sinking the other in the water. A smile split her face in two.

"You're right, sunflower, we _should_ have brought our swimsuits." Her lips twisted in a playful gesture, and her hand sank deeper into the water. Watching her white skin disappear into the liquid darkness accelerated your heart, and you felt the burning urge to pull her away from the edge.

Steve's footsteps creaked behind you, crushing some branches in his path. His eyes followed Norine's movements with apparent indifference. Bucky stopped at his side, the contrast of his battered cheekbone and Steve's perfect marble face were evident.

“This lake is not made to swim in it. Is not safe." Steve's voice was serious and cold, like the rest of his attitude, and his words left no room for discussion. A part of you expected Norine to obey his orders for once, but you knew her too well to know that would not happen.

"Oh, come on. Did we come here just to see and not touch? I don't think it's very fair.” Norine sat on her knees, her arm withdrawing from the water to cross over her chest. Bucky nodded, a malicious glow appearing in his eyes.

“Miss Pandy is right, Steve. Let me accompany her only a few meters in, without any danger.” Bucky smiled in that subtly manipulative way. You wondered how many people had fallen into that act of false innocence, how much pain it had caused them.

Steve clenched his jaw, but his expression remained calm. "Do what you wish, I am nobody to give you orders."

His words took you by surprise, but Norine soon kicked her boots off and rolled her pants to her knees, stepping into the water eagerly. Bucky followed suit, reaching her a few moments later.

A jab squeezed your chest when you saw the smiling Norine walk casually in the water, Bucky holding her arm so she wouldn't slip again. A smile tugged at his lips, and for the first time, it seemed genuine. It was such a calm and normal scene, your eyes burned. They both smiled and threw water like a pair of children playing in the lake for the first time.

You wanted to join them, you realized. You wanted to pretend that everything was normal, that you and Norine didn't ignore the abyss in your relationship and that Bucky's touch didn't make you shrink over yourself. You started pulling your boots when Steve's voice stopped you.

"You cannot." His voice was thick and hoarse, making a tremor go up your back. You turned to face him, and his eyes had turned to stone, his shoulders tensing. Your own posture straightened, and you lifted your chin, refusing to show how his gaze made you want to run and hide.

"I cannot what?" Your voice didn’t tremble or falter, and you allowed yourself to be proud of that little victory. Steve squared his jaw, moving to one of the large logs near the edge of the forest and taking a seat, his cold eyes never leaving yours.

"You cannot disobey me."

The blood in your veins seemed to freeze, and you suddenly remembered his words that day in the bathroom, the obvious threat sleeping under a warning.

_Don’t lie to me again, or I won’t be responsible for what I do with you then._

You wonder if that threat applied now too, if disobeying him would have consequences on you. Your throat closes and you squeeze your lips to prevent them from trembling, refusing to let him see your fear.

Steve takes a small notebook from his pocket, thick with ink-stained pages, but his eyes never left yours, daring you to challenge him. A chill goes up your back and you surround yourself with your arms, giving up and turning your back to him. While the sky had been clear for most of the morning, noon was approaching, and the clouds began to gather in the sky.

The sun seemed to slowly recede, and you feared the arrival of the night even now, in the middle of the day and several hours away from bedtime.

You allow yourself to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the cold fog that floated over your head from the lake and listening to Bucky and Norine's conversation. Not for the first time, you were amazed at how well they get along. Sometimes, when there was no one with you to hold your hand, you imagined how things could have happened.

What would have happened if Steve had never distanced himself from you, if Norine had never opened her doors for him, if Bucky hadn't opened your legs. In another life, perhaps, you would be sitting next to Steve, smiling and watching your best friend flirt with your future brother-in-law. You let out the breath you had been holding, without even noticing the burning in your lungs.

Norine kicks water in your direction, but it's too far for more than a few drops to wet your skirt. She pouts and releases Bucky's hand to approach the large rock that comes out of the water a few meters from the shore, scaling it carefully.

"Be careful!" You call behind her, but Norine keeps climbing until she reaches the top and sits on it, the edges of her pants and the stomach of her shirt wet. A smile pulls on her lips and her reddish hair bounces around her, some wet strands sticking to her face and neck. She looks like a mermaid in the middle of the sea, and you can't stop the smile from pulling your lips too.

“I am an expert climber, remember? We used to climb the cliff on the beach every summer!” Her voice is singing and seemed to bounce off the water, in the same way that a rock would, until it disappeared into the depths of the lake.

"Yes, while your mother yelled at us all the way to the top." The memory brought back warm sensations of snuggling under the blankets in front of the fireplace of her grandfather's house, your still damp hair emanating a salty smell. Norine laughs.

"And Nathan throwed sand and rocks at us, waiting for us to fall."

A laugh goes up your throat, drowning out the sound of Bucky coming out of the lake slowly, his eyes following each of your movements. You ignored him, preferring to remember your little brother running to get to the top of the cliff first, throwing things at you to stop.

"We went to that beach a couple of months ago, didn't we?" You rub your arms gently, crushing the chills that bristle your hair, failing to notice how Norine's smile falters.

You remember it well, because Steve went with you that time. It had been two weeks since your engagement, and he was just starting to distance myself from you. You can still feel the sea breeze against your cheeks, the water dipping your bare feet sunk in the sand. You had been so happy that time, deeply in love and ignorant of what your future awaited you.

"The water was freezing that time." Norine tries to fix her messy hair, her eyes looking past you in an expression you couldn't decipher. "I couldn't swim at dawn as I always do."

"The water is always freezing in the morning." Bucky puts on his boots calmly, his eyes bouncing between you and Norine. If he could feel the tension in her shoulders, he said nothing.

Norine shook her head, “No, that time was different. The coldness ached to my bones.” Crossing her arms over her bent knees, she rested her chin on them, a grimace pulling her lips. A breeze moved her hair and made your shiver. You want the feeling growing in your belly to go away with the wind.

“But we finally met that boy, remember? The fisherman's son.” You tried to cheer up the atmosphere one last time, forcing a smile on your lips. Bucky finished fixing his clothes and Steve snorted behind you. You refused to look at him, concentrating on Norine instead. “Mother and I were sure that he would ask for your hand as soon as he met you.”

A glow appeared and left Norine's eyes so fast that you could barely see it, but the melancholy smile on her face did nothing to console you.

"Yes, he was cute." Her shoulders straightened and her voice became playful again, but you knew her more than anyone else in the world, and just as you couldn't hide your pain to her, she couldn't hide hers to you. You wanted to reach her and hug her, despite not having a clur of the reason of her sadness.

"Too bad there aren't many young and handsome fishermen around here." Bucky intervened, his smile bright and rotten. Norine followed up his game, and every trace of the raw emotion that had invaded her a few seconds ago disappeared from her face.

“Oh, but we have you, James Barnes. And that is much better than any fisherman.” There was a tension behind her words, but you chose to ignore it for now. If Norine had nothing to tell you, then there was nothing you could do about it. She opened her hands in front of her. "Are you going to leave me up here, without any help?"

"You just want to undress me again." He accompanied his words with a smile and a wink, but you could feel his false coquetry, the manipulative murmur of his words. Bucky shot you a look for less than a second before diving into the water again, with everything and shoes. Norine screamed and kicked, sending water flying.

You backed away, far from the edge of the lake, and forced yourself to approach Steve. You didn't want to stand there between your fiance and your best friend splashing with your lover - _lover_ , you growled. The word felt dirty even in your mind.

Steve barely looked in your direction when you approached, a few pages of his sketchbook lying at his feet or on his thighs, where he supported the sketchbook and traced the lines of a new drawing with a piece of coal.

You took a seat next to him slowly, fearing that any movement would make him take it out on you and send you back where you came from. You pressed your lips and shook your head. When had you reached the point where you feared your own fiance?

Steve finally looked at you, his blue eyes stopping on your face. The intensity of his gaze petrified you, and your throat dried up looking for the right words to say. But Steve didn't say a word either, a hand with fingers blackened by coal rising up to your neck and squeezing gently. The touch made you jump, but you kept your mouth shut.

His thumb traces the line of your jaw, his eyes following the movement attentively while his other fingers closed on the other side of your neck. You swallowed the lump in your throat hard, concentrating on staying firm. His eyes jump to your neck and then to your chest, seeing the rise and fall of your deep breaths.

His grip suddenly disappears, and his attention is once again fixed on the page in front of him, his fingers flying over the page with the coal between them. You take a deep breath to calm your heartbeat and you watch with a gasp what he’s actually drawing.

You recognize the cheekbones and lips on the page, the eyes looking towards you with intensity and sadness. Your mother's forehead and chin but your father's neck and hair. Steve traces the line of your jaw in the drawing, the similarity with your face stealing your breath. Since when had he been working on this?

You don’t dare to speak, and he doesn’t make any attempt at conversation either, so you pick up the discarded pages from the ground and stack them in your lap. Bucky and Norine chat on the shore of the lake, the fog surrounding them like a blanket. The sounds of the forest seemed to have vanished when Steve put his hands on you, but now you were listening again to the purr of the wind and the song of the birds.

You flip through the pages curiously, wondering if this was the first time he drew you, but you are surprised to find other faces looking back at you. Your mouth opens slightly as you drink from the details of the drawings; wide hips and thick thighs, hands with refined and long fingers stretching over heads full of long hair. You don't recognize any of these women, but the heat rises to your cheeks with each drawing.

Finally you find what you were looking for and the heat spreads down your neck and down to your chest. Your own eyes return your gaze from the rough page, your big and frightened eyes and your lips almost open in a gasp, the water of your wet hair sliding down your face.

You have no idea how you looked that day in the bathtub from someone else's point of view, but Steve did. The soft edges of the bathtub are drawn in detail but are eclipsed by your knees resting on them, your legs open for anyone to see between them.

You pull away the drawing sharply, moving it to the end of the stack. Your stomach curls with shame and you squeeze your lips, your fingers closing on the next drawing of a woman just as naked as you in your own illustration.

"Were you with all these women?" You don't even try to stop the question, too overwhelmed by your embarrassment and curiosity to keep quiet for much longer.

Steve raises an eyebrow in your direction, barely turning his attention away from his drawing. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just a question, Steven." You clench your jaw, getting tired of his constant evasive responses. "I have my reasons to believe it."

His eyes stop at you for a few moments, seeming to have heard the impatience in your voice, but he only shrugs. “If they were, you don't have to worry about them anymore. They’re all in the past.”

You frown, but you don't press for more. Steve is still a man of few words and of his many secrets you doubt you’ll discover even half of them from his own mouth.

You keep turning from page to page until your eyes stop at a particular drawing, your heart racing in your chest again. It’s difficult to recognize her with stuffed cheeks and soft and long fingers, but Celeste's crystalline look is unforgettable. Your hands tremble and your throat closes, remembering the way she had tensed that day in the kitchen when Steve had entered.

You hide the drawing under the others before Steve realizes that you were looking at it with more attention than the others, his words echoing in your ears. _They’re all in the past_. You can count on your fingers the times you've seen Celeste since the day you met her, and every day she seems to be weaker, more sick.

You remember the urgency and trembling in her voice when she spoke, when she and Monroe asked you about your dreams.

Your heart skips a beat. _Monroe_.

Your eyes jump to the edge of the forest, the distant sounds of the ax echoing among the tall and lonely trees. You bite your lip anxiously, unsure if this is the best idea.

You gently order the stack of pages and put them at your feet, getting up and shaking your skirt. Steve looks up, stopping you with just his gaze.

"Where are you going?"

"I just want to walk a little, that's all." You hope that the anxiety in your voice goes unnoticed with your usual nervousness around him, and you take your eyes off his, sure that, like Bucky, he could taste your lie.

Steve clenches his jaw, as if the thought of leaving you alone bothers him, but he only nods in a sharp gesture and growls, "Don't get too far away from here."

You nod and hurry away from him, feeling your heart slowing with each step farther from him. Norine and Bucky are still chatting in the lake, but their eyes rise in your direction when they see you walking away. Norine barely has time to open her mouth to call you before you sink into the forest and disappear into the trees.

You thought that going back to the forest would suffocate you again, but you find yourself taking a deep breath and feeling your muscles relax, only the already familiar pain of your body restricting your movements.

You slowly enter the forest, being careful where you step and jumping with every sudden sound, but fear takes time to arrive. Bucky and Steve's warnings resonate like drums in your head but you ignore their voices and keep moving forward, following the ever closer sound of wood being cut in two.

The edges of your skirt are wet and leaves and branches hang from your hair, but none of that matters when you finally reach a glade, wooden trunks the size of your arm cut and stacked in the center. You no longer hear the sound of the ax, nor you see Monroe anywhere.

There is a different aroma in the air in this place, and your bones tell you run but your feet sink into the soft moist soil. Your arms surround you and you look around, looking for woodsman nervously.

"You shouldn't be here, ma'am."

His rough and thick voice makes you jump, and you feel his presence behind you. His aroma of leather is mixed with something metallic. You turn quickly and take a step away from him, remembering the sensation of his gaze on your skin and why you had been so uncertain of coming to see him in the first place.

His gray speckled black beard obscured the expression on his lips, but his eyes gray like a thunderstorm still had that glow of madness dancing behind them. His clothes were full of mud and dirt, splinters clinging to his bare hands. A red tint dyed his fingers.

"You're bleeding." You hurry to his side and raise his free hand before you can realize what you are doing, and stop your movements halfway in search of the handkerchief stored in your pocket. You dare to look up in his eyes, finding his eyebrows joined in a grimace of something between anger and confusion.

His hand is rough and harsh, full of small and thick scars. His nails are dirty and he has calluses between his fingers, but the blood slides down his wrist and into your own clean hands. You look into his hollow eyes for a few more seconds before taking out your handkerchief and pressing it on the small bleeding cuts on his palm, gently cleaning the blood and dirt.

"You can't work with injured hands." Your voice is soft in the silence of the clearing, the birds flying silently over your heads. You let go of his hand when you cleaned everything you could and you stretch to take the other, but his fingers cling to his ax tightly. You nibble your lip, "You're just going to end up hurting yourself more."

"There is nothing for me outside the pleasure of pain, ma'am." There is a hint of bitter mockery behind his words, but his expression remains illegible. Your hands fall to your sides and you go back again, his words hitting you like a fist.

You can't hear the current of the lake, nor Norine's laugh and Bucky's mocking conversation, but you could swear that you hear the whisper of coal against the paper, meaningless words whispering in your ears with a chill. Monroe trembles, and his fingers close more tightly around his ax.

"I shouldn't be here, ma'am." He repeats, his voice betraying the emotion that his face wasn’t allowed to show. It reminded you of Steve, in a way, but Steve's seriousness was accompanied by a feeling of coldness and superiority, mysterious walls of ice built around him.

But Monroe was illegible in a disturbing way, as if letting out his feelings had serious consequences, worse than you could ever expect from anyone else. There was madness and anger held within him, trying to tear his way out with claws and teeth.

You refuse to succumb to his darkness, however, and face his gaze. "I know, but I need your help."

Monroe lets out a dry, bitter laugh, and looks away to stare at the forest. He looks much more comfortable here in nature than within the dark walls of the mansion, you realize. He turns his back on you and moves towards an uncut trunk, his words hard as rocks.

"There is nothing I can do to help you, ma'am."

A fist closes in your throat but you move towards him, making sure he’s is facing you but keeping your distance from the edge of his weapon. “I need to find Celeste, Monroe. It’s very important that I talk to her.”

"Celeste Cause can't do anything for herself, much less for you." The ax cut the air and slid across the log like butter, his arms tensing with effort.

“I need to talk to her. She knows something about the manor, about what's happening to me.” Your voice became smaller and smaller as you kept talking, realizing how ridiculous you sounded. Heat rose to your cheeks, but you weren't going to give up now. Monroe knew something else, too, but the way he cut the deer's skin that day in the kitchen with complete indifference still made your hair stand on end.

Monroe takes another log, his eyes connecting with yours for half a second and you trembled at the intensity behind them. "But she doesn't know how to heal herself, or how to prevent death from putting his bony hands on her more than you do."

You suppressed a chill and jumped at the sound of the ax cutting the log. Tears of frustration burned in your eyes, and you stretched to take his arm before he could take another log.

“Please, Monroe. I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't walk the halls without being scared of my own shadow. I'm losing my mind and I have no way of knowing if I will live or not.”

Monroe clenches his jaw almost imperceptibly, but his thick fingers close on yours and tear them from his arm. He backs away from you, as if your touch had burned him, and his ax digs into a log tightly, sending splinters flying around it.

“There is a cabin one kilometer inside the forest on the south side of the gardens. You can get there on foot in about twenty minutes, if you hurry.” His fists open and close, as if he was restraining himself from doing something. "Go in the afternoon, and she will be there."

Your shoulders fall with relief and you squeeze your eyes so as not to cry. You could hug him, but you fear that your touch will push him over the edge. "Thank you."

"Don’t." His eyes are fixed on you, the intensity of his gaze holding you firmly in your place and the fury behind his makes your hair stand on end. “I shouldn't help you, and you shouldn't come to me. I must obey and comply, and you are messing everything up.”

"What?" Your hands were shaking, any trace of kindness sliding like poison out of him. "What are you talking about?"

He moves with long and heavy steps, and in less than a second he is right in front of you, his broad shoulders blocking the sun. The forest fell silent, no bird flying over you or a deer walking through the trees. You only hear your breathing and the rapid beat of your heart.

His gray eyes glow with the power of thunder, and his hand closes on your shoulder with surprising delicacy, but there is nothing nice in the way he leans over you, his breath mixing with yours.

"Be careful with the shadows of your dreams, Y/N." His thick voice sounds strange in a whisper, almost like the growl of an injured animal, but the warning is clear. You push against his chest, moving away from his reach quickly.

“Do you want to know why you can't sleep? Why do shadows terrify you? Why you don't feel safe in your own mind and skin?” His eyes are out of focus, his hands hanging by his sides. His voice sounds like that of the priest on the church back home, his voice monotonous and muted, as if there was no emotion in the body shouting those words.

"You could cut your precious wrists and find out." A crooked smile pulls his lips, almost hidden under his beard, and fear burns like a fire in your stomach. “Or jump out of your bedroom’s window. You would fall over the roses.”

“You don't know what you are talking about. You are out of your mind." You spit, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible. Even so, Monroe stayed in his place, making no move to approach you.

"Out of my mind?" A mad laugh ripped from his throat, his lips moving but his eyes keeping still. “Of course I am. You will, too, if you stay here long enough. Go to bed, Y/N, open your legs and close your eyes. Don’t let the blood get into them.”

"Monroe."

You turn to the origin of the new voice sharply, feeling your heart in your throat. Bucky enters the clearing with firm steps, his eyes fixed on Monroe, barely recognizing your presence. Monroe still looks adrift, his eyes unfocused and his hands loose.

"Sir?" He respond, his voice muted from the raw emotion of before. Bucky clenches his jaw, his hand closing on his shoulder, and Monroe trembles away from his grip, but Bucky refuses to let him go.

"Go back to work, and don't return to the manor until nightfall."

Monroe's eyes focus at the same time his shoulders tighten, shooting Bucky a fleeting glance before looking at you, his hands clenched into fists.

Bucky doesn't wait for his answer and lets go of his shoulder, taking firm steps in your direction and taking your hand roughly, pulling you in the direction of the forest. You look over your shoulder for a second, but Monroe is already back to work, his bleeding hands wetting the handle of his ax. Your stomach is a nest of knots and your heart still doesn’t return to its normal rhythm, but you can’t help feeling that if the time came to choose between the forest and the manor, you would know what to choose in a heartbeat.

"What else did he tell you?" Bucky growls, his long steps dragging you away from the clearing. You could barely keep up. His familiar charisma and coquetry had disappeared, hiding somewhere under his broken lip and his bruised cheekbone.

"Nothing, just meaningless things." You lied, fully aware that he would know you're lying, but trying anyway. His eyes burn on your skin for a second before continuing to walk.

"Steve and Norine are waiting for us at the manor for lunch." He says, and his voice has not yet completely returned to normal, but he had decided to ignore your lie. Monroe worried him, in a completely different way in which he worried you, of course, but there was history between them, and you couldn't help feeling that you needed to know it.

You look over your shoulder one last time, but there are only trees behind you. A sea of distance between you and the empty-eyed hunter.

* * *

Servants and maids move from side to side when you sit at the table for lunch. A plate is in front of you and the curtains are wide open, letting in the midday sunlight. A maid leans over you to fill your glass and you shrink when you notice the sweat sliding down her forehead and neck, the fatigue evident in her movements.

Norine had moved on with her dinner party plans for the closest neighbors, but you had barely paid attention. The servants had been moving non-stop for the past two days, cleaning and decorating every corner of the manor, as if the aura of darkness and smell of death could be cleaned with a wet rag and a brush.

Even so, you felt guilty while sitting there, having lunch while other people spent all day working for your comfort. Even Norine ran from side to side carrying curtains and dresses and bright bottles of wine, but she had absolutely forbidden you to help.

"You look as if taking a breath hurts you." She said, pulling the hair away from your face and pressing a kiss on your forehead. She was right, of course, and you couldn't imagine running from one place to another carrying boxes full of who knows what or scrubbing the floors in the state in which you were. You could barely get out of bed without your bones cracking.

You took a bite of your food and forced yourself to swallow it through your dry throat. Sometimes the food had no taste or texture in your mouth, despite how appetizing it was on the plate or the pain of hunger in your gut. You could force yourself to eat when there was no taste in your tongue or hardness in your bites, but sometimes the taste of fresh blood leaked through the flesh and you had to use all your strength to avoid vomiting.

Steve and Bucky ate more than you or Norine or anyone else in the manor did, but still, you noticed the indifference with which they looked at their plates. Their bites were large but lazy, as if they ate more for education than for hunger. Seeing them eat with such tranquility took away the little appetite you had.

Norine squeezes your hand under the table, her glass hanging lazily from her fingers.

“Do you want to help me choose the dinner menu? We have to be ready soon.” Her voice is soft, kind, as if she was afraid that you would run away if she spoke very loudly. You let go of her hand and take another bite with a grimace.

"Maybe later." You are surprised at the hardness in your voice, and Norine recoils, her hand closing on her lap. The look in her eyes sends a stab to your chest, but you keep your mouth shut and keep eating. Norine follows your example a few seconds later.

Bucky seems to cheer her up for the rest of lunch, both keeping the conversation flowing while you and Steve were in almost complete silence. His fingers were no longer stained with coal and his eyes were again the cold and almost colorless eyes that you had learned to fear.

You almost sighed in relief when lunch was over, more servants taking away the dishes and cleaning the table. Steve walks away with a tense nod in your direction and Bucky follows him, sending you a small smile before turning on his feet and following Steve in the dark.

You see Norine get up from the corner of your eye, her movements tense and slow. Her perfect pink lips curl in a grimace of pain, her hand resting on her lower back.

"Are you okay?" You hurry to her side against your best judgment, ignoring the urgency of cleaning up and going out into the forest in search of Celeste's cabin as soon as possible. Norine straightens, her hand moving away from her back and every trace of pain disappearing from her face. She smiles at you and you are surprised at how honest that smile looks.

“Perfectly, just a small cramp. Nothing that a little rest cannot cure.” Her smile is the same as always, the same bright smile and quality that you had learned to love, and even her eyes look at you with love and confidence. But you saw the pain in that same mouth, in those same eyes. You take her hand gently, noticing for the first time the paleness of her fingers.

"Maybe you should rest with me, cancel dinner or postpone it a couple more days." There is a plea in your voice, and you don't know why. Norine just shrugs, making a dismissive gesture.

“Oh, nonsense. I am fresh as a flower. The party will continue, and you can't escape it.” She winks playfully, stroking your hand gently with her thumb before letting go with a jump. “That reminds me, I have to go to make sure that the orders I sent to the town were delivered. Will I see you later in your room, sunflower?”

Her steps were already moving away from you when she turned in the door frame, one hand resting on the wood and the other on her belly, her movements stiff with pain that you would not have seen if you weren't looking for it.

"Yes, I'll wait for you to have tea." You force your gaze away from her hand resting on her torso or the pain lines on her forehead, and you smile at her. Norine is not very convinced with your performance but chooses to ignore it for once, winking one last time before disappearing through the door, leaving you alone once more.

You nibble on your lip while you wash your hands and mouth distractedly, tying your boots firmly and shaking your skirt. You wrap a coat over your shoulders and run to the kitchens to store some fresh bread and cheese in the simplest leather bag you could find. You took a couple of herbs and medicinal flowers that you knew helped with the headache and muscles. They hadn't worked with you, but maybe with Celeste they will.

The maids in the kitchen barely speak to you, but a few look at you over their shoulders with a frown. You close your bag firmly and go out the wooden kitchen door, knowing you'll have to go around the manor to go in the direction that Monroe gave you, but too afraid to meet Steve or Bucky on your way through the manor .

You stay away from the windows and walk around the trees and shrubs that decorate the garden that surrounds the entire mansion, your fingers brushing wild flowers in the less attended areas of the undergrowth. You hope none of the kitchen maids say anything about your strange departure.

Finally you enter the forest, your racing heart echoing in your ears, and you look over your shoulder towards the imposing manor for the last time, almost expecting to see Bucky or Steve staring at you from some window or balcony. But you only see servants moving through the halls and some occasional shadow smiling at you from a window.

Bucky and Steve's warnings resonate in your ears like screams and shrieks, preventing you from hearing any other sounds from the forest. You wonder what kind of wild animals may be hidden among the trees, using your naiveness to their advantage to get dinner.

You shake your head and keep walking, taking care of where you step and holding your skirt away from the mud. The forest looks much brighter when you're alone in it, in the daylight. But you doubt that the atmosphere is so relaxing at night.

You stay tuned for any sound. Steps behind you, a breath over your neck or the distant sound of an ax. The crazy look in Monroe's stormy eyes still burned your skin, as if even now he was watching you. You look around with each step, hoping to find someone hiding behind a tree. Maybe the darkness of the manor could follow you here, too.

You counted the minutes with the beat of your heart and the heat under your clothes, your leather bag bouncing against your hip with each step, until finally the trees opened, the vision reminding you of the clearing full of cut wood and Monroe bleeding in the center. But this time there isn’t a lake in the clearing, nor a lumberjack of insane stare, but a small wooden cabin.

There is moss and weed growing on the roof and through the outer walls of the house, an old chair that looked as if it was going to crumble with a touch to the side of the door on the porch. You approach the cabin cautiously, trying to see something through the windows, but the dust obscured the interior.

Your steps creaked under you when you climbed the two steps to the porch, your boots crushing dry leaves scattered all over the wooden floor. Your stomach fluttered with nerves, your hand trembling slightly when you touched your knuckles against the wooden door.

You held your breath for a few eternal seconds, but no one answers the door. A beat sent warm blood through your veins and you knocked on the door again with a deep, much stronger breath this time.

“Miss Cause? It's just me, Y/N. I would like to talk to you." You call her through the door, feeling your heart wrapped in a fist. You hold your breath when you think you hear something inside, but the seconds pass and the door stays closed.

Your throat closes and you clench your fists, the fear and anxiety that you've been trying to keep drifting suddenly overwhelming you. You press your forehead against the door, your hands leaning on the cold wood.

“Please, Celeste. Open the door." You cannot feel the humiliation of pleading to a closed door, too overwhelmed by your despair to care. Tears hang from your eyelashes like raindrops in the winter, your shoulders rising and falling with each breath. _"Please."_

You feel movement inside, and you jump away from the door when you feel it tremble. The door opens slowly with a creak, a pale face peeking out from the shadows through the small slit that the door opened. Celeste looks at you with crystalline eyes, her dirty hair pale as wheat falling on her face.

"What are you doing here, ma'am?" There is a tremor in her voice, her eyes jumping behind you, back to your face and then behind you again. Her bony fingers hold the heavy wooden door. The relief of seeing her there in front of you, alive, makes your knees tremble.

“I came alone, and nobody followed me, I promise you. I want to talk to you, finish that conversation we had that day in the kitchen.” Your voice is small and light, almost like one of the leaves under your feet. You are afraid to give her more details, the idea that the trees may be listening suddenly coming to you.

Celeste blinks rapidly, her fingers clenching on the wooden door, and she closes her eyes tightly for a few seconds, her expression stormy. Then she opens her eyes suddenly, her crystal blue gaze hardening in you. She stands aside and opens the door, letting you pass.

The interior of the cabin is as careless as the exterior, but it is obvious that she has spent time living here. The windows are carefully covered with blankets and a couple of candles illuminate what the sun cannot, an old table with two chairs and a fireplace that looks as if it had not been lit in years. The cabin is small, more than you expected, and a small bed rests in a corner, away from the door and the heat of the candles.

“No one comes here anymore, it's just for me. For Monroe, too, sometimes, when he gets tired of the cold and wants my heat.” Her voice is rough, sliding between coughs. Her hands rub her arms, the thin fabric of her old dress doing a poor work to shelter her. It's a warm day outside, with the sun high in the sky and the breeze flying through the forest, but the cabin is cold, like a heavy rainy day.

There is a tremor in her shape, the edges of her body fading away like the edges of a paint that was thrown into the water. Her steps are slow and her back is hunched over, as if she could barely support the weight of her own head.

You smile gently, leaving your bag on the table, noticing the herbs and cups that decorate the surface. A pair of leather notebooks rest in a corner, the pages showing a soft and refined handwriting, but you cannot read what they say in the darkness of the room.

"I brought you some food and medicine." You speak softly, in a whisper, as if someone were pressing their ear against the door. Celeste doesn't seem to care, because she points you to one of the chairs with a shaky hand and takes a teapot from the table.

"Thank you, you’re very kind." Her words sound mechanical and monotonous, as if she only said them out of habit. But you don't feel hostility in her, just caution. You watch in silence as she lights the abandoned fireplace and fills the kettle with water, putting it to heat over the fire. Her eyes remain fixed on the flames, kneeling in front of the fireplace. She looks small in the firelight, but her hair and skin light up alive.

"What do you want to know?"

Her voice is low, almost a whisper, but you can hear it louder than your own thoughts. The heat of the fireplace heats the room, dust flying in the air. Her thin fingers look like branches in the shadows, but her gaze is more human than you've seen in weeks.

“Everything you can tell me. Everything I need to know. Just… everything.”

Celeste plays with her fingers on her lap. If she is avoiding your gaze or is genuinely interested in her own hands, you cannot know. Her thin shoulders cut over the sleeves of her dress, the edges ripped and faded, but the color seems to return to her cheeks slowly.

"They have lived in that manor for so long, I don't think anyone remembers a time when they haven't been there." You expected her voice to shake as you know yours does, the nerves of being discovered fluttering like birds in your stomach. But her voice is firm, hard, with an aggressive edge on it.

You almost opened your mouth to mention Steve and Bucky's numerous trips, but stop before saying a word. It’s not the right time to interrupt.

“Oh, I know they travel. Always exploring, always knowing. They love meeting new people and bringing them here, showing them the house and the forest and the lake. Everything they can see and touch, the food that tastes like ashes and the beds where they can take their last breath.”

You tremble, remembering the many tasteless dinners and the soft sheets that you could no longer rely on to sleep. Celeste checks the kettle, but the water is still not hot enough. Her gaze is distracted, deflected, and for a terrifying moment you are back in that forest clearing with Monroe, the same lost look but a hand tightly closed in a sharp ax.

But then Celeste blinks and sits back on her knees, her hands crossed elegantly on her lap. Her bones crack with each movement, her skin buzzing.

“Nobody never stays long, you know. They always ride in their carriages and leave to never return. They are lucky, those people. I think they know how dangerous it’s to keep everyone and prefer to keep up appearances for their own good. They are smart in a terrifying way.”

Her lips begin to recite a word with a soft sigh and ends it with a groan, as if each word steals her breath, her heart beating to the rhythm of the flames. Yours beats hard, too.

"But they told me that nobody had visited the manor in years." You felt stupid for saying it out loud, but the questions swam in your head and you had no other way to drown them than to say them out loud. The corner of Celeste's mouth roses bitterly.

“They didn't lie to you about that. You and your friend are the first to come in a while. But they did stay. There is always one that stays while the other goes out to play.” Celeste bites her lip, the first nervous gesture you've seen her make since you arrived. She turns to you for a second, her blond hair covering half of her face. “Barnes has sisters, did you know that? Several of them, but I've only met one. The fire one.”

You frown, searching your memory for some memory of him mentioning his family. He had only spoken of his father once, but had not given details. That day you met Celeste, the day you met Monroe. You remembered the discomfort in Bucky when you asked about his childhood and about his past with Monroe, the way he had tried to change the subject.

_Sisters. The fire one._

"Have you ever wondered why Rogers hasn't introduced you to his family?" The question takes you off guard, your eyes moving away from your trembling hands to find her watching the fire again. Your lips open and close again, like a fish out of water.

"He is an orphan, and his closest relatives live in Ireland." You mutter, feeling silly. "I'd meet them after the wedding, in a few months." Your voice goes off, your eyes getting wet. Celeste looks in your direction but doesn’t react to your tears not spilled.

She looks like a porcelain doll sitting there, her hair falling on her shoulders, her jaw clenched slightly. You had only noticed how sick she looked, how fragile her bones felt, but you had never realized how beautiful she actually was.

“But he inherited this house from his father, didn't he? And Barnes, his childhood best friend, the son of his father's best friend, is just behind him, taking his place in the manor as well. I never met his parents, or his uncles. Neither did my mother, and she worked here since before I was born.”

Her words hang in the air as she gets up, taking the boiling water out of the fireplace and serving two cups of tea, her hands resisting the heat. You take the cup with a thank you, but she doesn't sit down to drink with you. Instead, she sits back in front of the fireplace, resting her chin on her knees.

"And there it is, the Rogers Manor, belonging to the long and successful lineage of the Rogers, despite the fact that no one has ever met more one of them at the same time."

You remain silent for what feels like an eternity, the silence of the forest falling heavily on your shoulders. Tea burns the palms of your hands but you shelter the pain, taking a deep breath to keep calm. You couldn't let this get over you, you had to keep going.

"And what happened to you?" It feels rude to ask something like that, but the question burned on your tongue as if the fireplace was in your throat and not in front of her. Celeste doesn’t react, however, but her eyes return to yours.

"The same thing that is happening to you, you should know." Her hands keep her knees together, her eyes flickering with light, alive, despite the heavy shadows under them. Celeste clung to life in a body that was just a vessel, a shell of what it once was. "They stole my sleep."

You take a sharp breath, mentally preparing yourself. You wish you were back home with your mother and your siblings and with Norine by your side, without traces of Steve or Bucky or the manor. But you are here, with Celeste, in a forgotten cabin in a hungry forest.

"What they are doing to me..." The words get stuck in your throat, and the tears cloud your vision again when you remember their hands on your skin, the heat of their mouths and the sounds of your pain. "They did it to you, too?"

Celeste shakes her head slightly, “Barnes was never very interested in me, but he had his fair share. Rogers…” Her voice goes off, a glow of pain and absolute fury shining in her gaze before the crystalline layer of indifference seized her again. "He liked me more, until he met you."

You tried to prepare yourself for the burning pain, but you still had to look away and take several breaths before you were sure you weren't going to break into tears right there. The fist in your heart clenched with each breath, the thought of Steve with her hurt more than you had expected.

Celeste moved on, more prepared for this conversation than you were. “I had no idea he was going to get married until you came with him. For a moment I really thought that someone had managed to break him and that he was really in love with you. Then I saw your friend, Norine, and I knew he was still the same bastard as always.”

Your fingers rise to cover your lips, stopping their trembling, and you close your eyes again. Knowing Steve's adventure is one thing, but hearing someone else admit it out loud is more painful than you thought.

"I'm glad you came." Her voice is low, and you open your eyes to look at her, but she avoids your gaze, her pale skin colored red like small drops of blood splashing porcelain cheeks. She clenches her lips, er eyes shining with shame. When she speaks, you can hear the pain in her words. "I was glad they had someone new to play with, that they wouldn't use me anymore."

A chill goes up your back, the feeling of a knife following the line of your spine. You see the shame in her eyes, the deep guilt of feeling like she did, but you understand it. You remember the quick moments when you look at Norine and you want her to be the one in your place, the harrowing guilt that invades you immediately after.

"I'm sorry." She says, her voice breaking. "I'm so sorry. I don't even have much time left and I used it to hurt you.”

"You never hurt me, Celeste." The cup trembles in your hands, the hot liquid spilling over your fingers, but you welcome the pain. "They did. You don't anything to apologize for or fear.”

Celeste clenches her chapped lips, letting out a deep breath, and her shoulders sink into her dress as if her own body is turning to ashes. The air around her feels tense, as if the forest itself were waiting to devour her skin as soon as she fell.

She opens her eyes, her gaze burning like the flames beside her, and she almost steals your breath. “There is nothing in this forest or in that manor that you shouldn’t fear, Y/N. They listen to each of my heartbeats and count them until they finally stop.”

Your own heart skips a beat, remembering Bucky's hands on your chest, his breathing in your neck and the whispered words in your ears in the dark before he forced you on the bed.

"How do I get rid of them?" You refuse to look away, ignoring the sharp pain of fear in your stomach. Celeste looks at you with empty eyes, so similar to Monroe's, but so different at the same time. Monroe has the look of a broken vessel, waiting for someone to tell him what to do, but there is a burning fire in Celeste's gaze, the kind of flame that doesn't easily go out.

But her shoulders sink and her fingers break and her hair falls from her head, revealing the skin of her skull. Celeste is a glass doll hanging on the edge of the shelf where she spent years motionless, ignored. The defeat is written all over her face, and your heart is broken for her and, a few seconds later, also for you.

"You can’t." She shakes her head slowly, her words accompanied with a heartbreaking cough, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her eyes shine with tears but her cheeks are dry, her lips trembling. "Pray that you can ride a carriage away and never see them again."

A gust of wind hits the window next to you, the sound making you jump. You look at Celeste, hoping to see her as indifferent as before, but her eyes open with panic and her hands shake.

"You must leave."

"What?" You straighten up, searching the shadows for some movement, listening carefully for a whisper or a song, but the darkness remains silent. Celeste stands up with surprising speed, a grimace of pain running down her face before she pounces on you, her cold hands clinging to your shoulders and pulling you to your feet.

The cup falls to the floor, tea spilling through the cracks in the porcelain, but Celeste squeezes your shoulders tightly, with a strength you wouldn’t expect from her fragile form.

"You have to go, _now_. They’re coming to look for you.” There is an urgency in her voice that makes your hair stand on end, her frantic eyes flying to the covered windows. A puncture of panic pulls your stomach, and you hurry to take your bag and head for the door. Celeste doesn’t follow you, standing in her place, her arms wrapping around herself.

You open your mouth, but you don't know what to say. Celeste blinks, but no tears fall, and she nods. The air feels electrifying and heavy between you, but, for a second, your heart beats at the same time as hers. Then you open the door and hurry outside, the warm afternoon air raising the dirty edges of your skirt.

You take a deep breath before you force your feet to move, tightening your coat around you. You have no idea how much time you spent in the cabin with Celeste, but the sky begins to change colors softly, the sun fleeing to hide at night.

The sounds of the forest envelop you, and the idea of being alone out here in the dark sends a shiver down your spine. Celeste's words resonate in your head, reminding you of a greater danger to your stalking. Maybe the maids didn’t said anything, but that wouldn't stop Bucky or Steve from looking for you and not finding you in the manor.

You have no idea what they would do with you if they found you now, alone in the forest, holding on to an empty bag and a leather coat. You shiver, hurring faster between the trees, thin branches scratching your hands and cheeks before you have time to tear them away.

A howl sounds in the distance and you have to force yourself not to stop and scream, tightening your coat harder. A few birds sing the afternoon song over your head, and it sounds vaguely like a laugh. Your stomach is entangled with nerve knots and panic, and your lungs burn with every breath.

You don't stop when a shadow moves through the corner of your eye, or when the howl becomes a scream. A gust of wind lifts your skirt and ruffles your hair, and you have to cover your face to prevent something from getting in your eyes. You barely stop, but when you open your eyes, you know that you are no longer alone.

You find yourself frozen in your place, your breath trapped in your chest. The howl stops, the birds fly away, and the forest remains in a disturbing and unnatural silence. Your fingers tremble at your side, and you take a tempting step forward, stepping on branches and leaves with a crunch.

A branch breaks behind you.

You close your eyes and swallow your scream, fear sliding like icy water through your veins. You take a deep breath, then another, but you dare not open your eyes.

_Can you feel the blood running through your veins?_

You can almost hear him whisper those words on your skin again, his hands leaving a warm trail down your stomach, your hips, your chest. You shake your head, sinking your nails into your palm so hard that you fear blood will draw out.

"It's a dream, it's a dream, it's a dream." Words slip from your lips like a prayer, too fast to distinguish one from the other, but they don't do much to comfort you. Dreams are no better than reality lately.

You dare to take another step, listening carefully around you for any sound, but the forest continues in silence. You take a deep breath and move a little further, your hands wrapping around you like a harmless shield. The branches and leaves creak under your feet but the sound of your heart is louder in your ears.

The wind rises in your direction, and you smell the familiar smell of leather and blood. You remember his black eyes like the shadows that obey his commands and his red lips like the blood in Monroe's ax, like the blood that runs furiously through your veins.

A whisper sounds behind you, and you run.

The trees pass quickly to your sides and your legs rattle, your sore muscles making you slower, but the forest remains silent and the sun begins to move away from you, its comforting embrace slowly disappearing. Your feet hurt, digging into the soft forest floor and sending earth flying behind you with every quick step.

Your lungs burn and tears of terror cloud your vision, but you force your body to keep running. You can feel him behind you but you feel him ahead, too. In your left and in your right, below and above. Your skin burns with anxiety, your bones pulling you down. The forest closes around you like the walls of the manor, the light seeping less and less through the thick branches in the tops of the wooden giants.

A mocking laugh tickles your neck and you scream, your hands flying to your neck, as if that would scare you away from you. Your feet stop with a start and you walk around in your spot, your eyes searching frantically around you. You can feel his stare on your skin, the burning of his desire inside you. He teases you with the dancing shadows that move around the edges of your vision but disappear when you turn in their direction.

"Stop." Your voice is barely a whisper in the silent forest but you're sure that Celeste could hear you, if she wanted to, and you know he does too. His blue eyes shine behind the trees, hidden among branches and leaves, traveling with the wind.

Your breathing comes and goes with sharp sighs, and you move away from where you are, walking backwards for a few more steps before turning around and running away again. You run and run and run but the forest extends infinitely in all directions, identical trees and flowers appearing again and again.

Your foot sinks into the soft moist soil, sliding deeper. You only have time to protect your face before falling hard on the ground, your skirt and your blouse dirtying with mud and earth. You feel the tears of fear going up your throat but you push them away while you lean on your hands, small drops of blood coming out of the scratches on your fingers.

Your foot pulses painfully, and your arms burn for taking the weight of your fall. Your chest rises and falls strongly and, as you take a slow step forward, you realize that you cannot keep running. The afternoon light illuminates your path vaguely, but you close your eyes wearily.

You had been ready to flee just moments ago, ready to hit and kick and bite for your freedom. But now, with your trembling knees and your head throbbing painfully, you only have the strength to rest your forehead against the nearest tree, your hands resting on the rough bark.

"Please, just end this." You whisper softly to the tree, as if you were telling it a secret. The buzz of adrenaline mixed with fear still runs through your veins, but you try to stabilize your breathing as best you can.

One hand closes on your hip, the other leaning on your neck, keeping your forehead pressed against the tree. You whimper, the first of the tears sliding down your cheek, and you squeeze your eyes closed.

"You're like that deer, you know?" His voice feels like a touch in its own way, almost as real as his hands. His thumb caresses the skin of your neck, pulling your hair out of its way. "The deer that Monroe and I captured a few weeks ago."

You breathe deeply, trying to stop the tremors that shake your shape and the tears that continue to flow freely down your face. Bucky doesn't seem to care about your sweat or your absolute terror, because the hand on your hip curves its fingers, stroking your skin over your blouse.

“We chased it for only a few minutes. It had the advantage, being a wild animal that had lived here all its life, but still gave up.” His lips brush your neck, a soft, light, almost imperceptible touch, but your skin turns on. You can feel the mockery spilling out of every word that comes out of his mouth. "It stopped in front of us and fell, with dignity, on its own terms."

You bite your lip hard to stop the sob that threatens to tear from your throat, your cheeks getting hot with shame at the implication of his words. Your lip trembles and you press your hands against the tree with more force.

You can feel the smile on his lips when he presses a wet kiss on your neck, his hand closing more firmly on the other side. The hand on your hip moves slowly, sinking under the edge of your skirt, the leather of his warm glove from the heat of your hand against your skin.

"You don't have to run from me, angel." He leaves soft kisses down your neck, down to your shoulders and back up to your jaw, sucking bruises on your skin while his other hand pulled your underwear out of his way, his gloved fingers touching between your thighs gently.

A groan manages to escape from between your lips, your body warming with shame and pleasure when his fingers sank into your heat, exploring between your folds with a cold and calculated calm until you felt how you wet yourself under his caresses. You curse your treacherous body and press your face against the tree to avoid looking at the hand between your legs.

"I could give it all to you." You can't see the sparkle in his eyes or the smile that pulls his lips, but you know, instinctively, what he means. His fingers brush the knot of nerves between your legs and you moan, pushing your hips toward his hand against your own will. "I would give you everything you wanted."

"Did you tell that to the deer, too?" You cannot avoid the bitterness of your words, the intense fury that burns under your skin along with the pleasure that his touch brings you. Bucky laughs behind you, his chest vibrating against your back, and his fingers sink deeper into your heat. You bite your lip.

You expect him to respond with another of his odious comments accompanied by that insufferable smile, but he just squeezes his grip on your neck and sinks two fingers in your cunt without warning, sending a shiver through your body. His fingers curl at that spot that makes you see stars and your lips open in a silent moan.

His hips push against yours and you tremble when you feels his excitement pressing you. You cling to the tree with more force, your nails scratching the hard bark while his fingers sink deeper inside you, going in and out easily.

You almost shout his name entwined with a sob, with a plea, but your tongue is tangled and your eyes close and you just whine, counting your breaths until a particularly strong thrust makes you lose count. The bark of the tree scratches and scrapes your forehead, your nails bleeding through the dirt under them.

Bucky moves his other hand down your neck, his thumb stroking your skin tenderly until his fingers close on your chest, squeezing the soft flesh through your clothes. You feel your hot body and sweat moistening the skin between your breasts while he handles you with one hand and pushing inside of you with the other.

_“Can you feel your heart beating against your chest?”_

You feel him pushing his hips against you in a slow and steady rhythm, and you wonder if he will take you there, in the middle of the forest, as he did in the privacy of your room. You could hide in the shadows then, but here and now, under the shy sunlight, there would be nothing to hide the shame of your pleasure.

You think of Celeste with her crystalline eyes and long and breakable bones, and you imagine yourself in her place. You can almost feel the wooden floor under your feet, the heat of the chimney on your skin, but the tingling in your stomach is still there, burning and keeping you right where you are, trying to drown out the sounds he is so willing to tear from you.

Bucky sinks his face into your neck, his palm rubbing your clit hard and his fingers curving at the same time he pushes in, and your vision is clouded. Your scream is swallowed by his lips when the hand on your chest returns to your neck and turns your face towards his, kissing you until he steals the little breath you had left.

Your legs shake uncontrollably with your orgasm and tears slide down your jaw and neck like little waterfalls. You break the kiss with a pathetic, painful groan, clinging to the hand in your throat as if it were the only thing keeping you standing.

You refuse to look at him in the eye, to see that mocking and sardonic look, so you focus on the trees around you. You feel that burning sensation of being watched, and remember all those times when your grandmother warned you about the eyes of the woods.

Your chest rises and falls with each deep breath, your legs slowly regaining their strength. His arms still hold you standing and his chest expands against your back, his hands closing on your stomach and his lips leaving soft kisses on your neck and cheek.

You feel your lip tremble but no sob comes, your eyes burning with tears without shedding. You turn away from him with shaking hands, ripping his hands away from you. You lean on the tree again, unsure if you can bear your weight, and take a deep breath.

"Are you really here?" Your shoulders sink with humiliating relief, your voice cracking more with each word, even though your eyes dry painfully with no more tears to shed. Saying out loud your biggest fear feels good, even if you just whisper it to the void, to a tree to keep your secret. "Are you real, or am I just losing my mind?"

The silence that follows almost breaks you in two, the forest holding its breath while you let it out in a silent scream. You feel hands stroking your hair, lips kissing your shoulders and a voice whispering against your skin.

"I am real as long as you want me to, my angel."

Your skin tickles where you feel his touch, but when you turn away from the tree and turn to face him, there is no one with you in the forest.

The leaves and branches begin to move slowly when a breeze blows through the trees, the distant song of a bird reaching your ears. Your tears are dry against your cheeks and you drop on the floor, your dirty skirt sticking to your skin and your back resting against the tree.

You can feel the ropes keeping your sanity together snapping slowly, and you can't do anything to prevent it.

* * *

Norine combs your hair gently with her fingers, the way no one else does. Your mother, your aunts and your cousins always pull it too hard, but Norine has always known how to deal with your hair and therefore, how to deal with you.

But there is a tension in the air that both of you have been ignoring for weeks, and you feel how Norine gets tired of pretending. You are tired too, you realize with a sigh, but your cowardly heart isn’t ready yet to face it. _Not yet_ , you keep repeating yourself. _Not yet_.

You know that she notices your reddened eyes and the dirt under your nails, in the same way that you notice the tension in her movements and the way in which she absently rubs her forehead, as if a migraine was building behind her eyes.

She doesn't mention anything and neither do you, and so you spend the rest of the day pleasing her with friendly conversation, helping her choose between fabrics and menus and carpets, discussing about the right color and the most appropriate dress for the occasion.

"I have a surprise for you." She murmurs to you with a mischievous smile from the bathtub, her wet hair falling in waves over her face. You look up from the book in your hands, sitting in your seat next to the tub.

"Is it a good surprise, or a bad one?" You are surprised at the feeling in your voice. You were almost beginning to believe that all emotion had been drained from you, but you find yourself returning the smile.

"You'll have to wait and see." Norine smiles from the tub and sinks into the foam, refusing to answer more of your questions.

For a few hours, you almost forget Bucky's sensation on your skin or the humidity of the forest in your lungs, but soon dinner is served.

Steve doesn’t show up for dinner and neither does Bucky, sending their apologies with a servant. Your heart skips a beat while you sit at the small table with Norine in front of you. Your eyes jump to the door every few minutes, waiting for one of them to appear suddenly, black eyes and red lips, shadows dancing over their heads.

You eat in silence for what feels like an eternity, fatigue pushing your slow muscles. You think of the sickly Celeste in her lonely and cold cabin, snuggling closer to the fireplace to heat her porcelain skin. The forest greets you from the window, the night covering everything with its cloak of darkness.

You think of Monroe and Bucky, how he was ordered not to return to the mansion until nightfall. You look for him in the shadows of the forest, almost waiting to see him come out of the darkness with his ax hanging from his hip and blood dripping from his fingers.

Your eyes move to Steve's chair almost against your will, the images of his hands on Celeste clouding your vision. You remember the way she looked in his drawing, more alive and healthy than you ever knew her. You wonder where Bucky and Steve can be at this time of night.

An idea tears the breath out your chest.

Norine gets up from the table behind you when dinner is over, holding your hand before you can sneak out of reach.

"Aren't you going to bed?" Her eyes almost look pleading, as if she were the one who needs comfort from you. You think of that same look in your eyes and wonder if that was what Celeste saw in you. You release her grip carefully.

"I have to do something." You're not lying and you still feel a pang of guilt in saying so, but Norine just nods with her lips pressed tight, her fingers entwined on her stomach.

“Don't go to bed too late, okay?” Her voice is the same as always, her bright eyes and her smile pulling the corner of her lip in a fun and sweet curve. It's the same Norine you know and love, so why do you suddenly feel like you don't know her at all?

You smile back tremblingly. "I'll be in bed before you know it, I promise."

Every step away from her feels like breathing fresh air and like water entering your lungs. The walk to the kitchen is short but your breathing is already accelerated when you enter, your eyes searching for Celeste frantically. You stop a maid when you can't find her.

"Did Miss Cause come to work tonight?" You can't imagine how you look for the poor woman, with your fast breathing and frantic eyes, but the woman just shakes her head with a mixture of urgency and confusion.

"We haven't heard from Celeste in more than a week, ma’am."

"What?" Fear rises like ice from your back but you strive to keep it at bay.

“No one has talked to her in several days. We think she finally went to town. She always wanted to stop working here.” A tint of shame stains the maid's cheeks, as if she had said something she shouldn't have. "Excuse me, I have work to do."

You have no strength to stop her or the courage to ask another maid, panic clouding your judgment as you leave the kitchen and into the garden. The cold of the night slashes your body and you tremble, the breeze stirring your hair. You hug yourself and take a step in the general direction of the forest where Celeste hides, a cloud of smoke flying skyward from the trees.

The night is deep and the forest is even more so, but the idea that Bucky and Steve are in that cabin with her cools your blood with terror. You remember the hate in her eyes when she talked about them but you also remember the raw fear behind them. You recognize the feeling, and you know that you should help her. If they are there with her, if they missed dinner to pay her a visit, then you must do something.

You had barely taken a step toward the forest when a hand closed on your elbow, pulling you back. You gasp and turn around, your heart getting stuck in your throat. Gray eyes like a storm look back at you. Monroe doesn't let go of your elbow but his grip loosens.

"You don't want to do that." His voice is cold, and you look for wounds in him against your own judgment. There is no blood on his hands or an ax on his hip, but his clothes are dirty and neglected the way old clothes always are.

"Is it I that don’t want to go or are _they_?" You know he doesn't deserve the poison in your voice but you can't help getting even with him. Monroe barely blinks.

"Is there a difference?"

You stop, looking more closely. His eyes look more focused than in the afternoon, when he sang terrifyingly tempting words and refused to listen. You feel his words push in the air around you and step back.

"What did they do with you?" You had no intention of those words coming out of your mouth, but muttering them was a relief. Monroe clenches his jaw and takes a step closer to you, and you jump away from him.

"Go inside, Y/N." His voice is hard and firm, but for the first time, there is emotion on it. His eyes follow your movements but there is not that glow in his gaze, that consuming and frightening hunger that feeds on your bones and dreams.

"I'm safer out here than inside that house." You take another step away from him, feeling with frightening assurance that what you were saying was true. Monroe scared you, more than you would have imagined, but the idea of another night embraced by shadows and gloved hands paralyzed you.

Monroe clicks his tongue inexpressibly. "I wouldn't be so sure about that."

Something in his voice and his gaze changes, like a flame igniting. A chill runs through your arms and under your skin. Monroe doesn't try to get close to you but he doesn't have to. Like Steve, like Bucky, Monroe also knows how to twist his words so that any insinuation ignites the spark of fear in you.

You think of Celeste's fragile shoulders under the big hands of the man in front of you. You think about how much you can look like her if you don't escape from there soon. You're tired and scared, your heartbeat getting slower and slower with each day.

You squeeze your arms around you and look over your shoulder towards the forest, wondering how Celeste should feel right now. You wonder if, in another life, you could have been her friend. You look back at Monroe, his eyes empty of sympathy or emotion, and you slowly walk by him. He never loses sight of you.

You stifle a cry of despair as you walk back to the manor, feeling his burning gaze on your back with each step. It is a familiar feeling, you realize. Your steps stop for half a second and you look over your shoulder in his direction. He hasn’t looked away from you at all, and you realize a chill that he has never done.

You enter the manor and your room in record time, and, once again, the night sings you a lullaby to sleep.

* * *

You barely eat breakfast the next day, avoiding the gazes of your housemates and hurring out of the hall in a mess of skirts. You bones ache and your chest burns, but your eyes remain dry and you steps steady. You’re more careful this when you hurry out of the manor, no leather bag nor warm coat. The forest follows your steps carefully but guides you safely to the glare, almost as it if it feel pity for you. Maybe it does. Maybe both the forest and the manor know what will happen to you. Maybe, if you let them, they’ll help you out of your pain.

But you skin is cold and your hair flies with the wind and your feet sink in the wet, soft forest ground. You didn’t know what to expect when you finally get to the glare of Celeste’s cabin. Maybe you hoped to see her alive and well, sitting by the porch with her hollowed eyes and broken body.

But there’s still smoke floating over the burned black wood, the smell of dead fire turning you lungs into ash. You legs fall under you and you sit in the ground with a loud tud, your eyes fixed in Celeste’s only hideaway, her only safe place.

Your bones ache and your chest burns, but you don’t cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this chapter is shit. Do y’all feel like this chapter is shit? Cause damn I do. 
> 
> What are we thinking now, huh? Any opinions on our dear charaters? Celeste, Monroe, Norine, the Assholes(tm) Steve and Bucky? Our precious Y/N? Next chapter is gonna be this dinner party, and we’ll meet certain someone (Y’all know who, I know u do)


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